Equinox (The Master of Death)
by swbooker
Summary: Harry Potter, Master is Death, is reborn as Tom Riddle's heir, Cadmus Riddle. With Sirius as his brother and expectation to act as Voldemort's son would, Harry must choose between the person he used to be and the person he is now. Shall he fulfil a destiny he thought he had long ago escaped, or will he bow to his new role in life, and become the ultimate heir?
1. Once More Unto the Breach

_New story! I love writing this story, and as I am pretty awful at writing summaries, here's a quick idea of what you can expect to find in this story: befriending of Marauders, the rise of Voldemort, Dumbledore, Hogwarts, some S. Snape action, action in general, some adventure, maybe romance, conflict, family and brotherly love, scenes between Tom Riddle and his heir... This is mostly about family and the reality of consequence, meaning that being heir of Voldemort will show Harry things he would not have ordinarily seen. It's complicated._

 _You'll see, and I hope you'll like it! This chapter is shorter than the rest shall be because it is acting more like a prologue._

* * *

 **– CHAPTER ONE –**  
 **Once More Unto the Breach  
**

* * *

Harry Potter – Boy Who Lived and Master of Death – was once again being reborn.

In his past life, he'd been living as a student at Hogwarts in the time of the Founders, and he was sad to see that life pass – but he eagerly awaited his new one. So far, discounting his first and original life where he had been born as Harry James Potter, he'd lived nine lives that varied greatly from each other; previously, he'd been Muggle-born, pure-blood, half-blood, rich, poor, high-class, middle-class, Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, a student of Durmstrang and Salem Academy of Wizards and even home-schooled. In his second life, he was murdered at seventeen as he slept for being a "Blood Traitor", or so much he had gathered. He had also been burned at the stake in one life, much like Wendelin the Weird (whom he'd actually met).

So, he was very much excited to see what challenges awaited him in his new life.

"Push one last time, Walburga!" Harry could hear a woman calling; "One last push!"

Walburga… Now, that was a name Harry remembered. _How?_ He wondered. Could it be possible he encountered this woman in one of his past lives? How very interesting. He may get to meet one of his past selves, if it even _worked_ like that –

The light, even after witnessing it nine times previously, was so startling that Harry cried as all babies did, and the surprise was made only worse by the feeling of being jostled about. He squinted, his small baby eyes attempting to pry themselves open again, and slowly he adjusted to the harsh lighting and blinked slowly. He clenched his hands, wiggled his legs, and tried to get a feel of his new body. Whoever was holding him seemed amused at his antics; looking up, he saw a kind woman dressed in what Harry recognised to be modern Healer uniforms. Was he in the same timeline as his original self, Harry James Potter?

"Spritely little man," said the healer. One finger gently stroked through what little hair he had as he was cleaned and swathed in a blanket, and he stopped crying, feeling a bit more adjusted. "He's very strong."

"He's beautiful," said another; someone behind them. "Have you decided on a name, Walburga?"

The next voice that spoke was deeper, haughtier, and Harry froze upon hearing it with wide-open eyes. "That is for my Lord to decide," said the woman that Harry could now recognise, easily, as Walburga Irma Black. "Bring him here."

Harry felt the healer move; belatedly, he started to sob because _oh_ just _what_ was going _on – why,_ oh _why_ was he condemned to a mother as foul as Walburga? And her _Lord_? Who the hell was her 'Lord'–?

Oh. Oh, dear Godric and his seven children, _no!_ _Not Lord Voldemort,_ thought Harry hysterically. _Dear bloody hell, not him._

And yet, as Harry (he'd never heard of a clinically depressed baby before) was passed into the arms of his new mother and he gazed up at her hauntingly beautiful face, he could not deny it: Walburga Black was to be his mum. And, by the sounds of it, Harry's life had already been given to Lord Voldy-Shorts and his severe daddy issues.

At least this life was going to be entertaining.

"Good lungs," said a smooth, masculine voice to Harry's right; "Good reactions; good strength… Mrs. Black, it seems your infallible blood has performed well in procuring me a strong heir."

"Thank you, my Lord," said Walburga, "It was an honour to be chosen."

"Indeed," said the voice. (Harry was feeling so very sick, all of a sudden, and he wondered if Walburga would much mind him throwing up all over her.) "As for his name, I have, of course, already chosen."

"May I be so bold as to ask what?" asked Walburga.

Now, Harry knew that Walburga and her husband, Orion, were proud people; because of this, he knew that she would not give birth to _just_ _anyone's_ heir, and that she would not lower herself to such an extreme sycophantic attitude for _just anyone_. And then, there she was, addressing this man as 'my Lord', and being careful as to what she said –

And Harry just _knew._

"He is of your blood too, Walburga," said Tom Riddle. It was _the_ Tom Riddle, the Tom Riddle he was before he was resurrected and looked like a snake. "Nevertheless, I am sure you are aware that _I_ shall be raising him – though you may see him periodically, if you wish–"

"I wouldn't dream of imposing upon you and your heir, my Lord," said Walburga, "but I will look after him should you need me."

There was a short silence. Tom, it seemed, was thinking over what she said and apparently found it satisfactory, for after a while he said slowly, "Cadmus. His name is Cadmus Marvolo Riddle, named for my ancestors."

"Traditional," breathed Walburga. "It is a fine name, my Lord."

My Lord… _Marvolo… Riddle…_ Oh, Godric, he truly _was_ of Voldemort's blood and – and sperm. The thought alone was enough to make him gag, but actually _living_ in a body made of Voldemort, _experiencing it_ –

Before Harry himself truly knew what was happening, there was a great blast, and it took everyone in the room a long, startled moment to realise it had come from him – from Cadmus, as he was now known.

"Was that magic?" asked one healer hoarsely. "Accidental magic? At this age?"

"He is strong," said Tom. "As strong as me. That is excellent… Excellent indeed…"

"Did you recognise the spell?" asked the other healer.

Tom seemed to want to _Crucio_ her for not showing him the respect he deserved, but instead he nodded. "Scourgify," he said, softly. "The cleaning charm. How very peculiar."

And if Cadmus started laughing then, well, it couldn't be helped. Apparently he felt so dirty that even his magic agreed with him.

"But magic so strong? That is unheard of–"

"Did you truly expect my heir to be anything less than impressive?" asked Tom scathingly to the healer who spoke; Harry realised, then, that both healers were Death Eaters – perhaps new recruits – and that they were not in the hospital. "Did you doubt the power of my blood?"

"N-No, my Lord," grovelled the healer. "It is just so unusual – even for one of such fine breeding–"

"Yes," interjected Tom with a hiss. "Yes, it is unusual… impressive, indeed…"

Harry heard the footsteps. He knew what was coming, and even braced himself for it, but it still did not prepare him for the moment when Tom Riddle peered over at him through searching red eyes, and smiled sharply.

"I think you will be something, Cadmus, my heir," he hissed.

Harry, for once, wished he was nothing.


	2. Nary A Hair Out of Place

_I wanted you to be able to get a real feeling for this story and what it'll be about, so I'm uploading this chapter at the same time. Currently I'm rereading all the Harry Potter books - every single time I do, they make me just as happy as the last time I read them. I would very much appreciate reviews to let me know **that you want me to continue or simply that you like/dislike it, what about it, and why**. Seriously, an author is nothing if they're not being read and reviewed, because otherwise they don't improve._

 _Thanks for following, favouriting and reading! Warms the cockles of my heart, it does._

* * *

 **– CHAPTER TWO –**  
 **Nary A Hair Out of Place**

* * *

Harry established within moments that Tom Riddle was not a father in the modern sense of the word; however, in the traditional sense, meaning he donated his sperm, he fit the bill perfectly. Unfortunately, this meant Harry was lacking in ways to agitate the Dark Lord, but found that perhaps it was for the best; he didn't want someone to be tortured as a result of the anger he invoked, nor did he feel having Tom hate him would be in his best interest. So, he was a good child, and did all of that which he was told to do, no matter how much he disliked it. Tom was not a man after Harry's own heart, after all; forgetting whatever Tom had once done to Harry - that was in the past - Tom was generally someone Harry was destined to dislike: his views, plots and opinions contrasted so harshly with Harry's indeed that Harry, even as Tom's son, found it hard at times to continue to play the game.

Acting like a child was probably the most degrading, and most unamusing, part of each stage of rebirth. It was hard luck remembering to dumb himself down as he spoke and remember that he was not actually meant to be a spirit who is hundreds of years' old living in the body of an infant. So, of course, he had to pretend to start learning speech and how to walk, and let people change his nappy no matter _how_ degrading he found it (and not to mention _invasive –_ and really, his stupid nanny always giggled at how _small_ he was, and that was just horrific because _he couldn't bloody help it, the old bint_ ).

While Tom did not look after Harry himself, he did teach Harry some things and punish him (which was a rare occasion) and, sometimes, even told Harry stories that Harry realised were meant to brainwash him into thinking Muggle-borns and Muggles were Satan on Earth. Of course, Harry acted the fascinated child and resisted the urge to roll his eyes and laugh, for he was sure he'd be spanked (but not by Tom himself as Tom preferred to use spells – because getting spanked by the Dark Lord would be plain _mortifying_ ).

One surprisingly good thing about being raised (which was a debatable term, when used here) by Tom was that Tom expected a lot of his heir. This meant that Harry, as Cadmus, could act as a very intelligent child and Tom's arrogance would allow him to feel nothing but pleasure and pride; after all, it was _Tom's_ blood that was the result of this; _Tom's_ heir that was so fantastically gifted.

Now, at five, Cadmus was sat in the parlour reading the Tale of the Three Brothers. Tom was sat opposite him, watching his heir with dark eyes that was at odds with the redness of what was once called his whites; somehow, despite this disfigurement, Tom was still a disarmingly handsome man who was much desired. Harry, in looks, followed in his footsteps: he had dark hair (which he loved; in his past life he was a blonde, and found he missed the familiarity that came with black hair: it was signature for him) and flawless, pale skin, with long lashes, high cheekbones and – unsurprisingly – his own green eyes.

Death, it seemed, liked Harry to keep his eyes as a reminder of whom he is, who he was, and to keep Harry from losing himself amongst his identities. The colour of his eyes helped to ground him, Harry supposed, because of their familiarity.

And he did like having green eyes.

"So, I'm named after the second brother?" asked Cadmus, in his high, childish voice that he detested. It was so _distasteful_ when compared to the rich voice he had grown used to in his past life for, oh, ninety years, was it? "Brother Cadmus?"

"Yes," said Tom. "Cadmus Peverell. He is our ancestor, an heir of the great Salazar Slytherin, and the creator of the Resurrection Stone."

"Does the Stone truly exist, Father?" asked Cadmus. He, of course, knew it bloody well existed. He could summon it to his hands if he wanted; as well as the Elder Wand and the Invisibility Cloak.

As the Master of Death, even if he didn't carry them or have them in his possession, Harry was considered the Hallows' rightful owner and master and, as such, could summon them. (Of course, Harry never did so because he didn't want anyone asking questions.) He would be able to do so until he formerly denounced his title as Master of Death, which allowed another person to gather all three Hallows, become their master, and thus become the Master of Death. That could take decades, however – even centuries. The Master of Death before Harry had been four centuries ago and it had been – at this, Harry _cackled_ – a Muggle-born.

This also meant that Cadmus Peverell did _not_ create the Stone – Death did – and was in fact, just an every-day, run-of-the-mill descendent of Salazar Slytherin. Harry wondered if Tom would be disappointed, knowing that. Probably not. Cadmus was still, after all, a pure-blood – and he was rumoured to be a Parselmouth.

"The Stone, indeed, exists," said Tom with a leer. "I have it in my possession. And, perhaps one day, you too shall have it."

"Yes, Father," said Cadmus. He hesitated only briefly before asking, "Are we continuing with Potions class this afternoon?"

"No, Cadmus. I am hoping to introduce you to something much more interesting, today. Something I am sure you have been eager to learn: Dark magic."

Dark magic. Of course.

Well, Cadmus had not been eager to learn such magic per se but had, in past lives, been taught it before. After all, there was a time where magic was not categorised; it used to be said that it was how the magic was used that made it Dark. Then came along curses that could expel ones' entrails or make them vomit up their own heart, and they couldn't really be thought of as being used for any good.

Harry had one thing to say to that: Surgical. Manoeuvres.

"Dark magic?" Harry was sure to make himself sound curious, and he leaned forward in his seat ever so slightly.

Tom ate it up. "Yes, my heir–" Tom only called Harry that when he was particularly pleased, "–Dark magic. I believe, because of your age, we shall try something that cannot backfire… something simple… Perhaps an Unforgivable? How would you feel about learning Imperio, my heir?"

"I would be thrilled to learn anything you wish to teach me, Father," said Cadmus. _Ever the sycophant,_ he thought. He'd make sure to sway his behaviour with age; but at five, he was supposed to be young and impressionable and look up to his father.

How sickening it was that his father was Voldemort.

"Excellent, excellent…" Tom was thrilled. "I shall have Rosier bring us a filthy muggle from the dungeons. You are certain you are ready?"

Obviously, Tom was an awful father, because he did not know that five-year-olds were meant to be, generally, incompetent. _Then again_ , he _was_ Cadmus Marvolo Riddle, was he not?

"Yes, Father _._ I'm certain!"

Tom chuckled; it was a deep sound, somewhat hissed, and he actually placed his hand on Cadmus' head of hair as he stood. "My heir," he said, perhaps fondly. "You are quite excellent."

"Father?" Cadmus froze, staring up at his father in a way that suggested he wasn't sure what to do.

Tom was – he was – well, he was Tom Riddle. He hadn't been around much for the first few years of Cadmus' life, aside from checking up on him, ordering around his nannies and tutors and telling Cadmus stories but he had been there a lot recently and elected to teach Cadmus frequently, postponing his Dark Lordly duties. Harry couldn't say he was a good father, or a loving one, and he couldn't say that he liked that man but the way he revered Cadmus was certainly – new – for Voldemort; seeing him express some form of positivity was interesting, and it was at times like this where he expressed such feeling that…

"You remind me of myself, Cadmus," Tom said, "This is to be expected because you are my heir, of course… but I am proud of you nevertheless."

Cadmus did not know what to say. He did not know what to do.

Slowly, stiffly, he stood, and Tom removed his hand from the top of his head. "Thank you, Father," he whispered.

Tom examined him, his eyes searching every tweak in his son's expression, before he nodded. "Come," he said. "I will teach you how to cast the Imperious Curse, and when you are older, I will teach you how to resist it – that is harder, much harder, to do. We shall have to work on your Occlumency before then."

Cadmus nodded once more and obediently followed his father, trailing behind ever so slightly, because Tom liked to see that despite the brilliance of his heir, he was still the best. Not that he expected to be rivalled by a five-year-old that admired him.

"In the month of October, I will not be here, Cadmus," said Tom. "You will be spending time with Orion and Walburga Black. You will not be forced to interact with their sons, Sirius and Regulus, particularly given that you are my heir and their elder."

No-one had ever told him that his mother was Walburga, although of course, he already knew. It was okay that no-one had told him – in truth, he didn't want to acknowledge that he was related to her – and he hadn't expected them to tell him. However, only now was it sinking in that he was really, truly Walburga's son – because if he was Walburga's son, he was Sirius half-brother.

"Yes, Father."

He did not ask why Tom would be gone for a whole month. That would only end in reprimand.

Tom continued on. "You remember Walburga, do you not?" he asked.

Cadmus nodded.

"Her nieces Andromeda and Narcissa will be there at times, and they are more or less the same age as you. Bellatrix, however, starts Hogwarts in September. I trust you remember?"

"Yes, Father."

"Good." With a sweep of his hand, Tom wandlessly opened the doors before him that lead to the Grand Hall – or, as Harry referred to it, his Throne Room. It was where he delighted on torturing whoever he felt the need to torture, and meeting with Death Eaters. Harry had not been in there too often.

Immediately, the few Death Eaters that were inside bowed down so low Harry thought it must hurt, and he tried not to laugh.

"Leave," ordered Tom. "Except you, Rosier – you are to bring me the Muggle girl from downstairs."

"Yes, my Lord," said Rosier, and left promptly.

The wait was not long; in fact, Tom had only just settled upon his throne when Rosier returned, an incarcerated Muggle brought hovering in behind him.

"Excellent," hissed Tom. He indicated for Rosier to put the Muggle down and he did so, but he left her tied up. "Thank you, Rosier. You may leave."

Rosier bowed once again then left, closing the door behind him.

"Now, Cadmus, I am sure you know the spell, correct?" Once Cadmus nodded, Tom continued, "There is no trick in casting it. You must simply point your wand. However, it is the intention that makes all the difference; with the Unforgivables, you must _want_ to use them. This is particularly important with the Killing and Torture curses, but I shall go into that at a later date.

"Do you feel you could try it? Or would you prefer me to show you first?"

Harry thought for a moment. On the one hand, he could go ahead and perform it on first try, thus pleasing Tom, or he could get it on the second go, _or_ he could ask Tom to do it first (Harry wasn't certain what Tom would think of that) and then perform it perfectly?

"What would you have me instruct her to do, Father?"

Tom smiled something feral. "Oh, Cadmus," he said, and flicked his wand in a gesture that untied the Muggle, "that pleasure is entirely your own."

Harry thought that through again. That meant, seemingly, that Tom wished him to harm the Muggle… but how could he do so without it being fatal? He hadn't killed needlessly before, and he certainly wasn't going to start now, even if being killed was preferable to torture; and yet, he needed Tom to believe he was as sadistic as himself – a true protégé – so what was brutal enough, yet not mortally wounding, to convince him just that?

And then suddenly, Harry got it. Aware that Tom was watching his every move, he stepped forward, aimed his wand, and said, " _Imperio!_ "

Instantly, Harry watched the calm relax every muscle in the Muggle's face, and heard his father hiss in delight behind him. And then, without thinking too much about it, he gave her the order.

The Muggle began to rip out her hair.

"Excellent!" Tom was laughing – or so it sounded – and when Cadmus looked at him, the spell faded and the Muggle slowly came back to her conscious mind. She stared in horror the clumps of hair tangled between her fingers, and then wept so suddenly that her body trembled with the force.

Tom silenced and bound her once more.

"Cadmus, my heir, you have done so well." The pride in Tom's voice was unprecedented – it was as if Tom only then realised who Cadmus was; what he was capable of – and involuntarily, Harry started to feel somewhat pleased. It had been a while since someone had given him such praise – even if it was Voldemort…

No; perhaps it was _because_ it was Voldemort. Harry was certain that Voldemort had never given such genuine praise before.

"On your first attempt, as well?" Tom smiled. "I expected nothing less, but still, you surprise me. Many wizards have to try several times until it is so effective… but of course, you are not a normal wizard, you are my heir…"

Cadmus did not say a word; he only watched, and waited, as Tom got to his feet. "When you are older," said Tom slowly, his gaze locked on his heir, "I feel that we will do great things together, Cadmus. Great things, indeed."


	3. The Life and Times

_Well, it's good I have some readers, because I really wasn't sure how people would take to this story. So, thank you for reading! Here's the next instalment, involving a young Sirius and Regulus._

* * *

 **– CHAPTER THREE –  
The Life and Times**

* * *

An eight-year-old Cadmus Riddle sat in Grimmauld Place, his half-brothers Sirius and Regulus Black (who were unaware of their familial bonds to him) at his side.

"How'd you get this one, Mus?" asked four-year-old Regulus, whom still thought 'Mus' was a cool nickname.

Cadmus smiled. Having never had a younger brother – in _any_ of his lives – he found Regulus' nickname sweet, and enjoyed how the younger looked up at him. Of course, Sirius did too but not to quite the same degree. Sirius wasn't as impressionable as Regulus, seen clearly in his rebellion against his entire family in later life.

"That one?" asked Cadmus. He looked down at the bruise on his arm that Regulus was indicating to. It was a recent bruise in the shape of a hand, inflicted by his father who had dragged him to Walburga in a fit of rage – his Death Eaters had, apparently, been idiots again, and he'd had to take an unexpected trip. " _That_ one I got just two days ago from an Inferius that grabbed me when I took a ring from its very finger – it was a priceless heirloom that was taken from my family _decades_ ago."

"Did _not_ ," said Sirius, but his eyes were wide and he was staring at Cadmus in awe.

Cadmus grinned. "I did!" he said. "And _then_ , my father severed its head from its body and it _kept moving_. I had to hit it with a blasting hex before it finally stopped."

Regulus, trying and failing not to bounce in excitement, said, "I wish I got to do that!"

"Your mother just loves you too much to put you in danger." Harry was lying through his teeth and felt awful for doing it. "Maybe one day, you can do it."

Sirius shook his head. "She doesn't," he mumbled. "She hit me, other day, for talking to this Muggle I saw who looked hungry."

"She hit you? Where?" Cadmus gently ran his wand over Sirius' temple and the area just below his eyes – now that he looked closely, he saw that it looked swollen – and healed it with a quick non-verbal spell. He did not heal his own because Regulus liked to see them and Harry enjoyed coming up with an array of stories to tell him. "There. All better. Now, you tell me when she hits you again. She shouldn't have."

Sirius nodded, shame-faced.

"What is it?" he asked gently.

Sirius muttered something and Cadmus leaned forward, putting a hand on Sirius' shoulder. Regulus was tucked under his other arm. "What is it, Sirius?"

"Was I wrong to talk to the Muggle?" he repeated quietly.

Cadmus shook his head. "No," he said, vehemently. "No, you weren't. Muggles are just the same as wizards and deserve to be treated the same, but your mother doesn't think so. She thinks you were wrong to talk to any of them, so don't tell her you and I think otherwise."

Hopeful, Sirius looked straight into Cadmus' eyes, and Cadmus was startled to see tears there. "You don't think I was wrong?"

"No, I don't," repeated Cadmus. "You were right. Your mother's wrong. Muggles, pure-bloods, Muggle-borns and half-bloods are all the same, Sirius. You don't need to listen to her, or believe in what she believes in. Not in your heart. Just… don't let her know that you don't agree with her, at least not until you're older. I don't want you getting hurt. If something like this happens again, and she hurts you, talk to me about it, okay? I'll fix it. I promise."

Shuffling closer to Cadmus, Sirius blinked heavily and nodded once, twice, three times, and when Cadmus put his arm around Sirius' shoulder, Sirius did not pull away. "Thank you," he said, tearfully. "I didn't – she told me I was wrong – and stupid – and that they were worthless – and I didn't–"

"Shush, Sirius," Cadmus soothed. "I know. But you'll be okay. I'll look after you." At this point, Cadmus smiled at Regulus, too, who smiled shakily back. "Both of you. Okay, Regulus? You have to talk to me, too."

"Okay, Mus," Regulus said.

There was a silence for a moment, and the three of them stayed wrapped up in the hug. Then Cadmus, wanting to make the boys feel better, said, "Do you want to see something cool?"

They both nodded enthusiastically.

"All right." Harry, with a grin, pointed his wand at Sirius' hair. " _Colovaria_ ," he said and in an instant, Sirius' hair began changing from a dark brown to a bright, bubble-gum pink.

Regulus shrieked with joy and Sirius, who was at first startled, grabbed at his hair and tugged it into his eyes then laughed childishly.

"Me too!" cried Regulus. "Me too!"

" _Colovaria_ ," Harry repeated, and Regulus' hair turned into the colour of a sunflower.

Harry was lost upon laughter _;_ he revelled in it, chuckling himself, and was rapturous that he got to see his godfather – his original godfather – so happy. He was even happier that _he_ was the cause; that there was joy inside the man Harry had seen die.

Of course, since the death of Sirius Black, Harry had seen tens – perhaps hundreds – of people die that mattered to him. The Founders of Hogwarts, all of whom Harry had formed relationships with, had all disappeared in his life-time. They didn't _die_ exactly but one year, they all simply left. And there were other teachers in their place.

It broke Harry's heart, in some ways. In others, it made him better. Stronger.

"You too, Mus!" said Regulus. "Green Hair! Can I do it?"

And so, with a nod and a smile, Harry spent a good ten minutes teaching the two boys he had grown to adore the colour-changing charm that Sirius would later use in many of his pranks.

"I wish our father taught us cool things like this," said Sirius. "Your father takes you on adventures and teaches you all these spells!"

"I taught myself some of them, Sirius," Cadmus said supportively. "I can bring you a book full of spells like these next time I come, all right?"

"Yes, please!" Sirius was grinning so widely his face could pop. "Thank you, Cadmus."

"That's okay, Sirius. Now, I better change our hair back. Your mother won't be pleased if she sees us like this."

Harry did not mention that his father, in fact, would be furious to see him doing something as childish as changing their hair to ridiculous colours; partly because he didn't think they ought to know, and partly because they did not know who his father was. In fact, no-one truly knew. He suspected they'd all find out when he went to Hogwarts, but the extent of people who knew who he was, was widened to Walburga, Orion, Voldemort himself and a few of his trusted Death Eaters: Rosier, Mulciber, Rowle… Cadmus guessed that there was under ten people that truly knew who he was; and fewer than ten people (that were not family) had ever even seen him, and that was restricted to the two nannies he had when he was younger (both now killed by Tom), about six Death Eaters and tutors that taught him from time-to-time.

Everything about him was so secret. And that was why Harry was dying to know what people – what Sirius and Regulus – would think when the truth came out.

Tom returned from his urgent trip a week later and Harry was sent back to the Manor after wishing goodbye to his 'brothers'. Once he got there and met his father, he realised that Tom was still furious, and was uncertain how to react.

"Welcome back, Father," he said, hesitantly.

Tom did not face him. Instead, Harry had the pleasure of staring at his back, strained with tension as it was, tall and upright. His fury was palpable; Harry could feel the distant sting of his scar, although he knew that was impossible. The look of Tom in that moment, however, the sound of his displeasure ringing in the space between them…

For someone who was not living their tenth life, for someone who had not seen countless horrors… It was terrifying. Voldemort was one of the most powerful wizards in two centuries and he was Dark and cruel, at that.

And somehow, Harry had killed him.

It seemed wrong.

"Cadmus," hissed Tom furiously, " _Why_ are you not studying? _Why_ are you bothering me? I have much to deal with; Malfoy has managed to fail at yet another task… I cannot do anything to fix it… and this has cost much. _Too much!"_

There was a crackle of power and suddenly Voldemort exploded. Lightning burst up around him and shot from the tips of his fingers, and he was shouting in outrage, and Harry ears and eyes hurt so badly from the sight but it was so _magnificent_ , such rage. If only he could feel love so powerfully – if only Harry could –

"Father, I wanted to show you something I think you will like."

Tom spun on his heel, seething in that cold way of his, although the lightning still glowed and spat around him. " _Think_ I will like it?" he said.

"Know," corrected Cadmus. "I know you'll like it, Father."

Tom's eyes narrowed. "Show me!"

Cadmus did not need to be told twice. Without hesitation, from his pocket he carefully extracted a snake that had approached him earlier; tired and hissing, it had approached him in the garden of Grimmauld Place and told Cadmus that she was his familiar, before coiling around his arm to sleep.

"That is a snake," said Tom, the lightning suddenly settling.

Cadmus nodded. "Yes, Father," he said. "She approached me today. She's an Iridescent Shieldtail snake. They're very rare... and magical."

 _"_ _And?"_ Tom hissed impatiently.

Cadmus grinned so widely it hurt, and petted his snake on the head. " **And she's my familiar,** " he hissed, in Parseltongue.

Tom suddenly looked elated; all traces of lightning vanished with a _crack_! " **You speak the tongue?** " he asked. " **I hadn't dared hope.** "

" **I speak it,** " Cadmus confirmed and his familiar, after zipping her tongue out in Tom's direction, slipped from Cadmus' fingers and coiled at Tom's feet, her head lifted in his direction.

" **You are Master's father?** " she asked. " **I am Selene.** "

Tom looked at Cadmus with an eyebrow raised. " **After the witch?** " he asked.

Camdus nodded.

Selene, ancestor of Rowena, was famed in Greek mythology as being the goddess of the moon. In reality, she had somehow managed to harness the power of the moon and use it to her advantage, and thus became one of the most powerful witches ever seen. From this power, she managed to fashion a flying chariot that she rode across the sky.

That was where the idea of broomsticks came from.

"Why call her Selene?" asked Tom, reverting to English.

"Her skin," said Cadmus. "It looks like she's made of night and stars."

Tom held out a hand, bending down, and Selene slowly slithered up his arm across his shoulders happily. "She is magnificent," Tom said. "You said she is magical? So little is known of the Iridescent Sheildtail… I trust she has told you what she can do?"

Cadmus nodded. "Yes, Father," he said. "Their tails act almost like a wand: she can perform any spell I teach her."

Tom's eyebrows rose, and he looked at the snake whose head he was delicately stroking. "Truly?" he asked.

"Yes, Father."

"That is fascinating. Is she aware of Nagini?"

Once again, Cadmus nodded. "She's eager to meet her," he said. "Selene has travelled far to bond with me and has not seen many snakes along the way."

"How did she get to you?" asked Tom.

Cadmus' grin was blinding. "Father, she _Apparated._ "

Tom, who had just hissed at Selene to return to Cadmus, seemed torn between jealousy and pride. "And she is yours? Your familiar?"

"She has been searching for me since she hatched, Father, yes."

"That is…" Tom laughed, and laughed, and it was such evil. "That is wonderful, my heir. You have so pleased me. Please, show Selene your quarters and get the elves to fetch her something to eat. I have business to attend to. Perhaps you could begin to teach her?"

"Yes, Father," said Cadmus.

"Meanwhile, I will be meeting with my Circle. Please do not disturb us."

Cadmus spent the next few months in a similar fashion; Tom was busy, so he did not teach him as often as he had grown used to, but his pleasure was lasting and Cadmus need only say 'hello' to the man to lift his spirits. Harry knew that it was not necessarily happiness that plagued Tom, and that it was more likely pleasure derived from the advancement in his plans concerning Cadmus (as opposed to happiness at seeing the success of his son) but either way it stopped people from being unnecessarily tortured, so Harry was pleased, himself.

Routine continue: mostly, Cadmus spent time with Selene with occasional visits to the Black House but in the end his time was mostly spent studying or perfecting magic he had not learnt in his previous lives (either because it was newly discovered or simply because he hadn't gotten around to it) and teaching Selene the most useful things he could. He also taught her how to transfigure humans into silly things, such as making them grow elephant trunks and the colour-changing charm, as well as a few prank charms… but it was all in good fun, and Harry thought it would make people at Hogwarts (when he eventually attended) much less wary of her.

Christmas came quickly. Before Cadmus knew it, he was waking up on Christmas morning and handing a gift to his father and another to Selene. While Tom did not celebrate Christmas or Yule, and continued to work through it, he did always get his son a gift.

"Here, Father," said Cadmus, handing over a small, square package. "For you."

Tom raised an eyebrow; Cadmus had never before gotten Tom something because he was a) too young before and b) unsure what Tom may need – but now he'd had a good few (eight) years to think it over, he'd finally came up with a list of presents that should last until his twentieth birthday.

"What is it?" asked Tom.

Cadmus smiled. "Open it, Father."

Tom did. And as he did, Cadmus was struck, for a moment, with the impression of a child receiving their first gift – doubtless, Tom had received presents before, but the way he opened this one with such caution and care was very much like how Harry had opened his on his first eleventh birthday, wherein he received his first ever _true_ presents.

"Blood Ink?" asked Tom. Blood Ink was literally blood, but it was blood that came from the user of a Blood Quill; it was valuable and used in a lot of Dark rituals and potions. "And… what is this?"

Piercingly, Tom was staring at him, his face blank and unreadable like his diary. In his hands, he held a small, silver snake – it was not alive, and was the size of a finger. As soon as Tom held it in hand, it coiled twice around his thumb like a ring.

"It's like having a real snake," said Cadmus, slowly. "I know you have Nagini, Father, but this is so much smaller than Nagini. You can use it to eavesdrop on peoples' conversations or hide it in a Death Eater's uniform to spy on them… Actually, you can use it for a lot of things, namely to communicate with me – the message will be transported to Selene who will be able to tell me – and you can imbue it with certain spells, so it can carry them places and set them off …"

Tom, for once, looked like he didn't know what to say. He looked down at the snake that was curled around his finger and stroked it, delicately, but only once. And then he looked up at Cadmus. "Who made it?" he asked.

"I did," Cadmus admitted. "I bought the snake from Knockturn and cast a chain of charms on it that, when they worked together, made it able to hold spells or conversations, and make it so it could communicate with its owner – you. It only responds to Parseltongue. It was already animated when I bought it, used like an owl… I just modified it."

For a moment, Tom thought. "I hadn't realised you'd become so excellent at Charms."

"Yes, Father," said Cadmus, "It is my best subject, besides Defence, Runes and Dark Arts;" because like it or not, Harry was good at the Dark Arts.

"Good… That is very good…" What was Tom holding back? He looked uncomfortable. "I… thank you, my heir."

Oh. _Oh_ , thought Harry. Realisation washed over him; Tom had rarely ever said thank you, and he had probably never received a gift that was hand-made.

Cadmus, sensing that Tom wanted to move past the moment, only smiled.

"I have this for you, my heir," said Tom. He pulled out a box – flat and rectangular, and wondrously velvet-lined on the inside…

"Slytherin's locket," breathed Cadmus. "Father, I–"

"Say nothing," said Tom, "only wear it, and never take it off. This is Slytherin's locket, as you well know, but it is more important than even that, my heir. Promise me you will care for it and never let it out of your sight."

Harry felt as though the world had stopped. He could scarcely breathe, and his chest felt tight, his mouth dry. He looked up at Tom – feeling, somehow, strangely touched – and wondered if he had ever trusted someone as he trusted Cadmus; wondered if he might love Cadmus.

"I promise, Father," said Cadmus earnestly. "I will guard it with my soul."

 _For you have given me yours, Tom Riddle._


	4. To Thine Own Self Be True

_Hello again! So, here's another chapter (that I am admittedly uploading simply because I already have it written). Currently, I am reading "Jaded Eyes of a Prodigy" by wickedfairy17. It is a very good Dark!Harry story and I'd recommend it if you're stuck for something to read. Anyway, thanks for the reviews last chapter, they were lovely to read! I'm glad my story is intriguing you._

 _Onwards and upwards, as they say!_

* * *

 **– CHAPTER FOUR –**  
 **To Thine Own Self Be True**

* * *

"You have been practising?"

This is what Tom Riddle asked of his heir, Cadmus Riddle, only weeks after he turned ten-years-old. In all of his lives, Harry's birthday had always been on the same day: July 31st. And now, on August 19th, he found himself facing his exceedingly pleased father (and megalomaniac) Tom, whose Imperious Curse he just threw off. On first try. Easily.

"Yes, Father. Occlumency was more of a struggle to learn but I am certain I have mastered it now, and I found it easy to throw off Imperio."

He was, of course, not necessarily lying. It was (and had always been) easy for Harry to throw off Imperio, and he _did_ find it harder to learn Occlumency – it was simply that neither of these things occurred within his life as Cadmus. He'd acquired these skills within his first life, although he mastered Occlumency in his second. As he said, he found it difficult to learn.

"Truly? I am going to test your shields – then, after a moment, I want you to lower them so I can look at your defences."

Cadmus knew he could not refuse, and only braced himself for the impact.

Immediately, he felt Tom in his mind; Tom, who began to poke and prod and then push and shove at his shield, could not get through. Once he stopped attempting to, Harry lowered his shield and Tom wandered into his mind which was filled with mouse-trap like defences and, to anyone that was not Harry, looked like something out of an M.C Escher painting.

It was impossible for anyone to navigate. Indeed, it would take months for them to even gather their bearings.

This was what Tom told him with a viciously pleased smile.

"Thank you, Father," said Cadmus. "It's nice to know my hard work paid off." And it truly was.

"Where is Selene?" asked Tom after a moment. "You will be going to Hogwarts in a year, and Albus Dumbledore will not trust you. This much you know. When he realises Selene is your familiar, I have no doubt in my mind that, seeing he can't penetrate your mind, he will attempt to look into hers. You have taught her Occlumency as I asked?"

Cadmus nodded. "Yes, sir, but it was harder for her to grasp it."

"I'd imagine so. Bring her in, my heir. I'll give them a look."

Selene, too, passed the test; while there was work to be done, she had a very powerful shield, and it was the defences that needed reinforcing. So, Harry helped her to strengthen them until Tom was pleased.

"My heir," he said one day, "I was hoping you would sit in my meeting today; a gathering of my Inner Circle."

Cadmus knew it was not an option to say no – there never actually was an option, Tom just liked people to think there was – and so he nodded obediently, managing a smile. "Yes, Father, I'd love to see how it works."

That was, apparently, the right thing to say, because before Cadmus rightly knew what was happening Tom had smiled and directed him towards the Meeting Room. Once there, he waited outside the door for a moment and locked eyes with Cadmus.

"Don't say anything until I address you," he said. "Don't answer to anyone. They have no right talking to you, and I will put them in their place." He glanced at Selene, who was hanging around Cadmus' neck and added, " **Selene, watch Jameson, if you please. I do believe he is a traitor.** "

Selene nodded, and coiled herself more firmly around Cadmus.

The room was large; a long, dark table stretched down the length of it and a fireplace burned on the back wall. It was empty apart from that, but there were many Death Eaters milling around – not as many as Harry would have thought, however. It seems Voldemort gained a great deal more followers in the 70s, known in the future as 'the years of terror'.

Regardless, those present seemed to fear Voldemort as much as Harry remembered, for silence settled as soon as he stepped inside. "Sit down," he said in a slow and dragging voice.

Cadmus thought it sounded rather like he was teasing them and settled into a chair by his father's side as indicated. From that position, he could see Dolohov, Nott and Mulciber quite clearly, each of whom were three of the only people to know who Cadmus truly was, not including Rosier and Rowle who sat farther down the table.

"Nott," Tom started. His voice was so soft that ordinarily, it would have been thought of as a whisper – but the room was as silent as a morgue, and so his voice was like a match in a pitch black room. "Nott, do you bring news of our giant friends?"

"They say they will be ready within the next year for whenever you decide to wage war, my Lord."

"Excellent… excellent… And what news is there from the vampires, de Rosa?"

"My Lord," started de Rosa tentatively, "the vampires claim that they are ready but will need insurance that they will be able to feed once over here. They fear that perhaps we are feeding them honeyed words."

Cadmus saw Voldemort's hand twitch on the table: apart from that, there was no outward change, and instead Cadmus surreptitiously observed the people who had began to stare at him.

Voldemort, it seemed, had noticed their wavering attention too. "Are you perhaps bored with me, my friends?" he asked. "Do you doubt my judgement? Are you ignoring my words?"

Silence. Neither one man nor one woman was brave enough to come forward, until Jameson was seemingly kicked under the table, and he straightened up, averting his eyes from Cadmus.

Voldemort had been staring at him.

"N-No, my Lord," said Jameson immediately, "I was only wondering what a child–"

"A child!" spat Voldemort. "Tell me, Jameson, do you think me a fool?"

"My – my Lord?"

"I have been watching you, Jameson. Watching you make an example of yourself. Watching you walk in shadows as if that Light that burns in you was not there. So, I ask again: do you think me a fool?"

Jameson did not move. He was pale, pallid, and his blonde locks were the only colour on his person. "N-No, my Lord. You are no fool."

"Stand."

Jameson stood.

Voldemort, too, got to his feet. " **Cadmus,** " he hissed, " **stand. Your time has come. Selene, what did you see?** "

" **He is a traitor, my Lord,** " hissed Selene; the Death Eaters' eyes all locked upon her, and Cadmus was grateful for the cover-up – they would think that Voldemort was talking only to the snake. " **The way he acts – how he listens – he is too attentive and not as the others are.** "

" **As I thought** ," agreed Voldemort. He indicated at Cadmus to stand, and stand he did, walking with Voldemort around the table to face Jameson. "You see," said Voldemort, "this is why you do not question me, Jameson." One spell and Jameson was bound. "This is why you do not _betray me._ "

Jameson cried out; Voldemort hissed through his teeth in displeasure and uttered, " _Crucio!"_

The screams rang off the walls, pierced ears and hearts and left sound even as the spell was lifted. Harry's heart was beating fast, but he had seen it all before and worse, and he had felt it all before – and worse.

"Cadmus," said Voldemort softly. "It is your turn."

Slowly Cadmus looked away from the writhing man in front of him and into Voldemort's eyes. He stared for a moment and then, with a deep breath, turned back to the man and said, " _Crucio."_

Jameson's screams were even worse. He sobbed and spluttered and thrashed on the floor, a muscle in his neck jumping, his shrieking growing ever more intense to Harry because _he_ was doing it – _he_ was torturing this _innocent_ man.

Of course he'd used the Cruciatus Curse before – he'd even killed a man using the Killing Curse – but never had his victims been innocent or without crime. To Harry, a traitor was not a criminal, they were just scared... and innocent.. and trying… to work their way out…

"And now," murmured Voldemort excitedly, heard above even the man's howling, " _kill him._ "

Harry's blood swarmed into his feet and his veins felt taut under his skin but he nodded and opened his mouth, and before he could even understand it, the spell had been forced up his throat.

" _Avada Kedavra,_ " he said, and there was a blast of green so very like his eyes, before the man lay still.

That evening, Cadmus was in the library, reading to himself yet again a Muggle novel he had disguised as a Charms textbook. He liked to read Muggle fiction in order to calm himself down, distract himself and think things through. Of course, Tom would be livid and disgraced if he found this out, so he did it secretly and without chance of being caught.

The good thing about Muggle literature was that there was always more. More books were always being written and being published, alongside the hundreds of books Harry had yet to read (although in his ten lives thus far, he had read a good lot).

"My heir," said Tom, standing in the door, "I have to leave for the night. I will not be here all week. Walburga Black has offered to take you in, and I do not wish for you to be alone."

"Yes, Father," said Cadmus. "Walburga is a nice woman."

"She is of good blood."

Cadmus watched Tom watch him. "She… is my mother, isn't she?" asked Cadmus.

Tom was not surprised. "Yes," he said, "but you need not know her, if you wish."

"I don't care for a mother," admitted Cadmus, "you are all I need."

Another long, hard stare, before Tom nodded. "You will need only your wand, and Selene, of course. Walburga has clothes for you over there."

"Of course, Father. Then, I am ready. I will see you in a week."

"Remember to continue the Arithmancy work. And I shall expect you to have read up on banshees for next week."

Cadmus stood, nodded, and bowed once to his father. He was about to make his way past Tom when Tom stopped him by placing a hand on his head.

It was, again, that odd phenomenon. The one that felt almost like love but of course could not have been.

"I am proud of you, my heir. You did so very well today, killing that worthless traitor…"

"Of course," said Cadmus, although the memory stung like acid in his chest, "you asked me to do so."

Tom's thumb slowly stroked downwards, and pulled a loose hair away from Cadmus' forehead; Cadmus, once more, did not know how to respond.

"You are what I imagined you to be and more," said Tom. "I am proud you are my heir – my son."

Cadmus' throat felt tight. He swallowed, nodded. Said, "Thank you, Father," in an unfamiliar voice, and continued to the Floo once Tom indicated for him to leave.

A flash of green and a polite welcoming from Walburga later, and Cadmus was stood in Sirius' room, watching Regulus and Sirius bicker over an animated Chaser model he'd given them for Christmas; it was part of a set, a model of the Puddlemere United team.

"Honestly, there are another two Chasers," said Cadmus in mirth, "surely that one player isn't so important?"

Sirius and Regulus' heads snapped sideways to stare at him. Cadmus grinned, waved, and before he knew it he had been tackled to the ground in a hug.

"Merlin's beard, that _hurt_ ," said Cadmus with a laugh. "It's nice to see you two, too. Care to get off me now?"

Sirius blushed and got to his feet but Regulus was grinning, and pulled Cadmus up and along to the bed. "Sirius got told off earlier for sticking Kreature to the floor."

Cadmus rolled his eyes but he was smiling. "Merlin, Sirius, what have I told you about pranking your family?"

"Not – to – do – it?" Sirius mumbled.

Cadmus laughed and nodded. "Right," he said. "Your mother won't like it. Did she hit you?"

Sirius shook his head.

Subconsciously, Cadmus relaxed. "Good," he said, "that's good…"

There wasn't much thought in Cadmus, who consequently found he did not have much to say. He simply sat there, back propped up against the wall, and pulled his brothers into either side of him. One hand, he kept in Regulus' curly hair, ruffling it affectionately to get the boy to smile. Sirius, on the other hand, swatted his hand away; but he too was smiling and eventually gave into temptation as he pulled at a lock of Cadmus' black hair and watched it spring back up.

Cadmus felt like he was watching the scene distantly, as if detached from his body. It left him feeling discombobulated, and his chest felt as though it was packed tight, so he pulled Sirius and Regulus in for a keener hug.

"What's wrong, Mus?" Regulus asked after a few minutes.

"What?" Cadmus looked at Regulus then at Sirius in surprise; they both looked stern and worried, and Cadmus wondered whatever for. "What do you mean?"

"What's _wrong_ ," Sirius repeated, as if it were no longer a question. "You're acting funny. And you look sad."

Cadmus' smile was gentle. He shook his head. "Nothing's wrong," he said. "I just… haven't seen you in a while."

"Cadmus, we're not silly," said Sirius quickly; Regulus looked as though he almost believed him. "There's something wrong."

"I never said you were silly."

Regulus, to Cadmus' horror, had started to tear up. "'Mus," he whispered, "please don't be sad. Tell us what's wrong."

But he couldn't; of course he couldn't. How could Cadmus – nay, how could Harry – tell these two little boys who had already grown up far too fast (not unlike himself when he was Harry Potter) that he had had to kill an innocent man earlier that day? And how could he make them understand?

He didn't think he could.

"I'm not sad," he insisted, pressing a kiss to Regulus' head and grinning as the boy made a face, "just thinking, okay? Don't worry about me."

"But I do worry," said Sirius quickly, softly. He looked so distraught for a moment that Harry was flung back into a time where his godfather was ragged and scarred, broken by the deaths of his adoptive family… "'Mus," Sirius continued, and that was when Cadmus knew he had lost, "Please tell us. We're not going to stop asking."

Cadmus knew they wouldn't, too. Somehow that knowledge hurt. Not like a bruise or a trapped nerve, or an ache in the head – no, the pain was much worse than that. It hurt only the way killing an innocent person can hurt. It was causing a war without trying to, or seeing your friends feed each other to the storm. It was like witnessing your parent act as though you never existed, or having a lover throw your soul into the jaws of hell…

Cadmus did not know how but when he pressed a hand to his cheek he realised it was wet. When he closed his eyes and tears fell from his lashes, he choked on his breath, and similarly realised he had begun to cry.

"I killed a man," he croaked finally, feeling colder at the admission. "Today. My father made me kill an innocent man. He had a daughter, and wife, and a whole life that I took away just like that… and I can't fix it. My father is so proud of me for doing it; I know he'll make me do it again…"

On either side, his two brothers were stiff with shock. "I didn't have a choice… Please try to understand. I would never hurt you or anyone if I had a choice but I had to kill this man, and I didn't want to. You're just so young... I didn't think you'd understand… I didn't want to tell you... I'm – I'm meant to _protect_ you!"

"You–" Little Regulus swallowed so hard Cadmus could hear it; he could feel the beating of his heart and Sirius' heart and Regulus', yet knowing they were safe placated him only slightly. He could not stop the tears but it was more of an automatic response; his guilt, his sadness and his immortal shame were all forced to the bottom of his soul and left to rot.

He was young, after all, in terms of immortality. Death often reminded him of this at times where he had done wrong and hated himself for it. He was still so young and had much to learn; he could not know what was best to do at every given moment, or what was best for the whole bloody _world._

Of course, he had never before killed a man who had not in some way deserved it. He felt his youth was not reason enough to excuse that.

Regulus tried again to speak. "You hurt somebody? Without a good reason?" he asked.

Cadmus nodded. He found himself meeting Regulus' eyes, and it was hard to do, harder than his admission. "Yes," he said quietly. "I killed a man."

"But you had to," said Regulus, just as quietly. "Your dad made you?"

"Yes, he made me. But I think maybe… maybe I did have a choice that I didn't see…"

"No!" cried Sirius suddenly. He shot up, away from Cadmus, and Cadmus' soul twisted in such a way he was paralysed, floating in a black lake that was lonesome except for the sharks. "No, Cadmus, it wasn't your fault – he made you – you would never do that! Stop – stop saying that, stop saying that! You'd never… You're _Cadmus_ …"

"Yeah," added Regulus, and he too was crying now. "You'd never hurt anybody if they didn't deserve it, 'Mus."

Sirius finally crawled back to Cadmus. His eyes were filled with water. "Your father, he did it," he said. "He did it. Not you. You wouldn't…"

And then Regulus and Sirius were back in his arms, tucked up into his chest like the two brothers they were to him. They cried as one, their hearts beat as one, and Cadmus buried his face into their hair and took deep breaths. As a unit, they comforted each other with their silence and remained a steady fortress, more powerful and awe-inspiring than Azkaban itself.

"I didn't want to hurt him," Cadmus eventually murmured, the trails of his unravelled heart held tightly in their hands. "I wouldn't. You wouldn't. And I'm going to make sure you never have to. I'm going to protect you."

"Us, too," sniffed Regulus; "We protect you, too."

"Like a team," added Sirius, "in Quidditch. We've got each other's backs, right, 'Mus?"

"Right," said Cadmus. "Like a team."

He did not say he loved them, for he didn't think he needed to. Likewise, they did not mention how Cadmus' arms shook around them, and how his tears did not leave him until sleep granted him release from all conscious thought.


	5. Give Thy Thoughts No Tongue

_Hello again! Sorry, I got a bit stuck on the end of this one because it's an important scene so it took me a while to write. I hope I did it justice but I got a bit of a block when trying to establish the flow of the conversation... Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy the new update, and I'd like to thank you all for the wonderful reviews! It would really tickle me pink if you'd be so kind as to let me know what you find interesting/fascinating/etc about this story, just for curiosities sake, of course. Anyway, here it is! Thank you again! I'm trying to get around to PM you all but it's hard and I have no time. Next chapter - Hogwarts!_

 _[Wanna PM me or recommend me any cool stories? I'm also cool with that.]_

* * *

 **–** **CHAPTER FIVE –  
** **Give Thy Thoughts No Tongue**

* * *

When Cadmus received his Hogwarts letter, he had half-expected that Tom would change his mind and he would not be allowed to go; but when Tom raised his chin and smiled and nodded, Cadmus realised that it was a foolish thought. Tom was pleased he was going; Hogwarts was still, in some ways, his home, and he wanted someone he could trust on the inside. Who better to put there than a child – _his_ child, who supposedly loved him unconditionally?

"We shall have to buy you all you need!" said Tom. "A day in Diagon Alley, I should think."

"You and I?" asked Cadmus.

Tom seemed to consider this.

"I think not," he said at last. "I shall call Druella and Cygnus Black and have one of their children to escort you… Bellatrix will be far too busy at the moment, and I'd say Narcissa is too young, so I think I shall have Andromeda take you. Is that agreeable?"

Cadmus nodded. While he hadn't spoken to Andromeda often in _this_ life, he had in his life as Harry Potter, and he loved her in both. "Yes, Father," he said. "I'd be happy to be escorted by Andromeda."

"Excellent," said Tom. "I'd be happy for you to go alone but I have to protect my heir, and there is some sort of trepidation hovering about today. I am… sorry that I cannot take you. I have other engagements to handle."

"Another time, Father," said Cadmus. Oddly enough, he did feel something twinging in his chest as Tom apologised; could he truly be sad that Tom was not accompanying him to the Alley?

"Then I shall consult the Blacks and have Andromeda escort you. Please make sure you take Selene with you. Buy an owl also, if you wish. I suppose it would not bode well for everyone to know you have a magical snake as your familiar."

"No," supposed Cadmus, "it wouldn't."

So it was that an hour later, Cadmus was walking next to Andromeda Black – whom would later be known as Andromeda Tonks – through Diagon Alley. It looked so very like it did when he was known as Harry Potter, save a few differences: there was a jewellery shop on one of the street corners called 'Glitterbug', and an odds-and-ends shop called 'Confundus Clutter' that sat next to a robes shop called 'The Refined Robe', which would in years to come be where Madam Malkin's Robes would reside.

"Right," said Andromeda, handling Cadmus' Hogwarts letter with care. She walked gracefully as she was raised to, with straight shoulders and back and her chin up high – more accurately, she looked like she floated. It was terrifying how much she reminded Cadmus of Bellatrix in her appearance, and yet Narcissa in her manner. "It's going to be easy to collect all of this for you. It's just a shame your father couldn't come."

"He's been very busy," said Cadmus. "But yes, it's a shame…"

Andromeda glanced at him; for a moment she looked conflicted, but then smiled very softly and said, "You have far too much to worry about at your age… Your Father cares for you, and I'm certain he's sorry he's not here. Don't fret."

Cadmus was uncertain what to say; indeed, that was both exactly what he had been thinking, and not at all what he had been thinking. "Shall we start with the robes?" he asked instead.

They did. The tailor was a kindly man called Lukas Scrimgeour – father of future Minister Rufus Scrimgeour, it seemed. He was a bit stern but he came across as polite and welcoming and warm; the difference between this man and the man Rufus would turn out to be was astounding, and Cadmus had to wonder what happened. Perhaps Rufus took after his mother more so than his father.

After acquiring his robes, they headed to Flourish and Blotts to buy his books. This took a bit more effort, mostly because Cadmus' mind kept scattering, and he'd pick up books that weren't on the list. It was a quiet day in the Alley and the sky was clouded over, so the shop seemed dark and lonesome – especially in the back where Cadmus was hiding.

Next to him, Andromeda watched him surf through all the books with a lopsided smile, before suddenly it faded, and she was staring at him so intensely that he managed to pull himself away.

"Andromeda?" he asked. "What is it?"

Shakily, Andromeda raised one delicate hand to touch the side of his face; there, upon his cheekbone, was a faded bruise, and the shadow of a hastily healed cut. "You've been hurt," she said softly, her eyes losing the aristocratic sharpness that she forced into them every day. "Your Father…"

Cadmus took a deep breath. "You shouldn't worry," he said, "It's just a bruise."

"But – _he_ did this, didn't he?" When Cadmus did not reply, Andromeda took the book he was holding and put it back on the shelf, then pushed him further back into the shadows. "Cadmus," she said, " _he did this_ , didn't he? You can tell me. I know – I know who he is. All about him."

"Do you?" asked Cadmus, one eyebrow raised.

"He is the rising Dark Lord," murmured Andromeda, "Voldemort. The one everyone keeps hearing whispers of, as if he were only a myth… but Bellatrix is being inducted into his service once she leaves school. I know who he is, Cadmus. I know what he has done."

"But you do not know," said Cadmus. "You can't possibly know. You don't know what he's done, what he truly is, nor do you know what I have done. I'm his son and as such I have performed tasks you wouldn't understand – no, don't say that you would understand, because I can't rightly say that I understand them myself. Sometimes I look at myself and wonder what part I have to play in this game of chess… But he _is_ my father, Andromeda…" Cadmus felt the weight of Slytherin's locket pressing into his chest, warm like scorched iron as it hung beneath his robes. It was painful for only a moment. "He's my father, and as his heir, it is my duty to be with him. I will always be with him, no matter how complicated things become."

"Cadmus–"

"Don't try to convince me otherwise," said Cadmus sternly. "I know the risks. I know my father. And I know myself. While I know that you hold no loyalty to my father and that you do not support his beliefs, it is not so simple for others. It is not so simple for _me_."

For a moment, Andromeda looked at him closely; her posture was stiff and she was much more aloof than she had been just seconds previously. Harry understood why.

"My loyalty?" she asked. "You know that I do not support…?"

"Of course," said Cadmus, "but my father is unaware, and that is how he will remain. Your true feelings will be our secret until you choose otherwise. I promise."

Harry liked Andromeda a lot. In his first life as Harry Potter, he'd been told all about her by Sirius; apparently the Marauders were great friends with Andromeda, and there were many stories that Harry was told consequently. Indeed, after Sirius died and Harry got to know her, it seemed he began a similar friendship with her. They grew close, closer even when he had to look after Teddy, and he trusted her implicitly. Perhaps it was unwise for that trust to carry on into this life but Harry doubted it; although Andromeda felt as though she was made of cold metal on the outside, inside her soul had yet to be turned to steel…

And so, as Andromeda smiled at him, Cadmus smiled back. He knew innately that he was not wrong to trust her, though he did question what she should and should not be privy to knowing. After all, under the surface, Cadmus was wrestling with the two roles he had to play: one, being the devout and loyal heir to Tom Marvolo Riddle, and the other being Harry Potter, Master of Death, Boy-Who-Lived, and the only one who could stop this war before it truly started.

It was wicked, Harry thought, that he should be blessed with his first ever parent in this life, and that his parent should be none other than Tom Riddle. After all, Harry, in all his other lives, had never had a parent. All of them had either been absent, dead, or incapable of acting as a parent. The Hogwarts Founders, who took him under his wing, were the closest he had ever gotten.

And they each disappeared without a word.

Harry repelled this thought immediately. It was depressing, and he found it easier to live if he did not dwell on past lives. He was no longer alive there, after all. He was alive now, _here_ , as Cadmus Marvolo Riddle. Even so, it was hard not to identify himself as all his other selves – Harry Potter being the foundation of every single one of them. It was this knowledge that made him ask himself each day perhaps the most difficult question posed in his ten lives thus far: was his duty as Harry Potter to kill The Dark Lord, or was his duty as Cadmus Riddle to protect him?

"I know the power of family, of expectation," said Andromeda then, and Cadmus was sucked back from his pondering. "If you ever need help…"

"My conflict is my own," said Cadmus. "I just need to work out what I'm meant to do… I should not be telling you that I have doubts at times, but doubt I do. You won't tell anyone."

It was not a question, and Andromeda knew as much, raising her chin. "I won't be telling anyone," she confirmed. "I understand what you are going through more than anyone, and as such, we have in our hands each other's secrets. I believe we have earned the right to trust one another, if only minutely." She hesitated. "Although I must warn, Cadmus, that you should tread carefully – love is a powerful force but there are times where it cannot outlast all else, no matter what others may tell you. The Dark Lord is not immune to love, but neither is he weakened by it. You need to remember that you have a duty to your father, but you must too remember that you have a duty to yourself."

 **0**

When Cadmus returned home from shopping, it was late, and he had only just enough time to have dinner with his father which was an extremely rare occasion. Tom asked him about his day, to which Cadmus told him that he was successful – he'd ending up buying an owl, too, which he called Thrym after Norse legend for the owl was huge and imposing, grey like sleet and with streaks of black and white plumage. His eyes were a striking shade of orange that truly appeared as red.

"We shall be going to Walburga's tomorrow morning and it is there she will escort you to Hogwarts. You will be posing as a relative of the Black family." Tom did not mention that Cadmus truly was related to the Black family through his mother Walburga because neither of them thought of it that way. Harry did not like to think that he was legitimately Walburga's son – bar the fact it meant he was brother to Regulus and Sirius. "Your name shall appear as Cadmus Black, son of Walburga Black. Tomorrow, to make ends meet, it will have to come out to both Sirius and Regulus that you are in fact their true brother. Are you against this?"

"No, Father, if it needs to be done." Truthfully, Cadmus was thrilled, but he knew better than to say so. Besides, he was not sure how Sirius and Regulus would handle it. It was one thing to know that they were truly brothers but it was another for them to find out that his father was Tom Riddle – or as they will have heard of him, Lord Voldemort.

He wondered what they would think of him then.

"Then that is what shall be done. The longer we keep Dumbledore at bay, the more time we have to complete plans and erect a definite position." Tom smirked lightly, rubbing a thumb around the edge of his wine glass. "It is all coming together. They truly shall not know what hit them."

Cadmus said nothing.

"I expect weekly updates, my heir, so your owl will have much use. Keep Selene nearby at all times and make sure she is concealed unless it is absolutely necessary she is unveiled. You must gain the Headmaster's trust. You must report to me the on-goings of the school and recruit all those you feel fit to bow under my power. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Father," said Cadmus. "I will do my very best. If luck should have it, Dumbledore will trust me enough that by the time he finds out I am your son, he shall feel that he has an advantage – that he may use me as a spy."

"The blithering codger is certainly going to regret such trust." Tom's red eyes inspected his son as he ate the last of his fruit parfait. "But you must not underestimate him. Dumbledore is the only wizard whom could have hopes of stopping me and that is only because in my foolish youth I revealed too much of myself, I fear. You shall not make the same mistake."

Cadmus looked up; met his father's eyes. He stared unblinkingly for a moment then bowed his head in both acknowledgement and respect, wondering when those eyes had no longer made him feel on edge. "I shall not make the same mistake," he swore, "this, Father, I will do my best to ensure."

Cadmus, soon after that, went to bed, leaving Voldemort downstairs sipping at wine and fluidly evaluating his upcoming plans. It was late when Harry heard him finally go to bed and even later when Harry managed to go to sleep himself, what with his thoughts swirling around the room and his heart fumbling for sensibility in his chest. He slept with a heavy conscience.

And, the next morning, awoke with a heavy soul.

He was scared – terrified, more accurately, of how his brothers would take the news but he could not let himself grow so emotional that his father would notice. Tom Riddle most certainly could _not_ notice. If he did, he would know that Cadmus was withholding things, being dishonest and outright _lying_ to the man that raised him in this life. He would quickly realise that Cadmus did not support Voldemort unwaveringly.

And that could not happen.

"Ah, you are punctual as usual," said Tom as Cadmus reached the bottom of the stairs. "That is excellent. We must leave immediately. Have you everything?"

"Yes, Father," said Cadmus. "We are Flooing to the Blacks, I presume?"

"Indeed. Come with me."

Even after having lived nine other lives, Harry was still unable to Floo without stumbling, a fact that made Voldemort ballistic on his worst days and simply irritable on others. Today was the latter of those days, and as Tom's fingers dug more tightly into Cadmus' shoulder than they should have (crumpling his velvet robe) he straightened up so as not to appear weak to the Blacks, who watched them step out of the Floo and approach.

Regulus' eyes went wide and he moved as if to launch himself at Cadmus, but Sirius kicked him and tugged him back in line.

"Walburga, Orion," said Tom smoothly. He removed his hand from Cadmus' shoulder, instead letting his wand slip effortlessly from his sleeve and into his hands. There, he absently played with it, and the tension in the room kicked up a notch.

 _That_ was a threat. And a blatant one.

"Thank you for taking my heir to school. I regret not being able to do so myself but with the way things are, I am afraid I would be more of a hindrance to both his protection and his identity if I were to see him off..."

Stiffly, Walburga curtsied and Orion bowed. "It is our greatest honour, My Lord. While we express our sorrow that you choose not to take him yourself (although we understand the reasoning behind it), we are proud to be able to serve you in this way." Orion spoke very carefully then cleared his throat, perhaps worried he had said something out of turn. "I do not believe you have ever been formally introduced to my sons, Sirius and Regulus?"

Tom's red eyes turned appraisingly upon to two children, who both bowed after Orion shot them a stern look. They seemed simply stunned to see Cadmus looking so formal, and even more stunned to see that his father was the red-eyed Lord they had heard so much about.

"I do not believe I have," Tom said. "Cadmus has been the only one to receive that... honour."

All eyes turned expectantly on Cadmus, who nodded, looking blank-faced and proper. "Indeed. It is nice to see you again, Sirius, Regulus. Father, with your permission, should I-?"

"Of course, my heir, of course. They shall soon be attending Hogwarts with you, after all... I believe it shall be better for them to hear it explained by _you_ , a person they are familiar with..."

Although Cadmus knew this conversation had been carefully prepared with his father the previous night - meaning Tom had decided that Cadmus was to be the one to explain to Sirius and Regulus that they were brothers - he nodded subserviently and showed the two boys from the room. As soon as the door had closed behind them, he had expected Sirius and Regulus to run at him and hug him, but they did not. Instead, they walked in silence behind Cadmus to Regulus' room and sat without speaking on the bed.

Finally, just as Cadmus was going to break the preternatural stillness that had overcome them, Sirius whispered, "The Dark Lord... Your father is... is..."

"Yes." Cadmus felt as though he'd swallowed a stone that had gotten lodged in his throat. "Yes, he is my father. I'm to be the heir to his- his empire."

Sirius did not meet his eyes. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"I was not allowed," said Cadmus. "And truthfully, I was afraid you'd react badly, which I wasn't wrong in thinking, I see."

At that, Regulus' head shot up so fast his neck clicked loudly, exacerbated by the violent shaking of his head. "No! No! 'Mus, you're still _you_ , you just have a super powerful dad now... Right?"

Cadmus smiled softly, ruffling Regulus' hair. "I'm afraid it's not that simple. My father is extremely powerful and intimidating, that's true, but there are certain expectations of his that I must follow... Things I didn't want you to know about."

"Like - like the killing thing? Like when he made you kill that man?"

"Yes," murmured Cadmus. "Like that."

Sirius remained silent.

"Well - well, if he's your father, then who's your mother, 'Mus?"

And Cadmus was finally able to smile in earnest, white teeth, dimples and all. "Who do you think?" he asked. "It's Walburga, Regulus. Walburga Black. We have the same mother."

Harry was hoping this would be the phrase that would knock Sirius out of his stupor, and he was right. That was it! Finally, _finally_ , Sirius looked at Cadmus with widened eyes, excitement shining on his young face. "We have the same mother?!" he cried. "That means - we're _brothers!_ "

Regulus looked ecstatic too, having not realised this fact himself, and was suddenly grinning as wide as Sirius. "We're brothers?! Really, 'Mus!?"

"Really," said Cadmus, "We're half brothers. I'll be attending Hogwarts as Cadmus Black - which is actually what I need to tell you..." His voice lowered and his expression darkened. "You can't tell _anybody_ about my father being who he is, okay? It's vital. I'm your brother, I'm legitimately a Black, and to anyone who doesn't know that I'm the son of Lord Voldemort, that's _all_ I am, okay? Do you understand?"

The boys nodded slowly. "You're Cadmus Black," said Sirius softly, "Not Cadmus Marvolo Riddle?"

"That's right. Just Cadmus Black."

"And - and you're our brother?"

Another smile and another nod. "That's right."

"Well then," Sirius took a deep breath and with a determined set to his face, said, "I - I don't care if your father's The Dark Lord! You're my brother, and that's all I've ever wanted."

Regulus was nodding emphatically. "Yes, 'Mus, I've always thought of you like a brother!"

"Well then, that's good..." Cadmus felt the knot in his throat loosen and ebb away as he pulled them both in for a big hug, "because that's all I've ever wanted, too."

And it truly was. Harry had only ever wanted a family that he could love beyond measure and in ways he had never experienced. Ever since his first life as Harry Potter, he had been missing those vital familial bonds and had always wanted a family. Although in his past lives he had gotten close, not one of those families had ever been so complete as this, so complete that Cadmus could take them in his arms and swear to himself that no matter what happened, no matter what he did, he would always, _always_ love and protect them.

No matter what.


	6. Boldness Be My Friend

_Hello again!_

 _So, before I kick off, I just wanted to say a quick_ _sorry **if you prefer longer chapters**. I know some people do prefer them and while I personally don't care, I do at least try to make sure I hit the 3000 word mark (because I know some people do care). Often times however, stretching the chapter to reach a certain length feels less like writing a book and more like waffling, you know?_

 _Anyway, the Hogwarts chapter has arrived! Huzzah! Sorry for the long-winded authors note but I hope you enjoy the chapter. I'm also really VERY sorry for the wait; this chapter took far longer than intended but unfortunately a few situations arose which were, ah, dire._

 _(A boy called Gaspard is introduced here - he is a legitimate figure of the Harry Potter universe, so I had to alter his date of birth just a little to make it fit. He was originally born in '59 but in this story he's born in '57.)_

 _Your reviews were marvellous, anyhow. Thank you kindly._

* * *

 **– CHAPTER SIX –**  
 **Boldness Be My Friend**

* * *

"Goodbye, my darling Cadmus. Write us bi-monthly and _immediately_ let us know your House, won't you?"

Forgetting that Walburga Black was legitimately his mother, Cadmus had to hand it to her: she could act a mother as real as any other, only more reserved and pure-blooded and not nearly so bumbling and cuddly as the Weasleys had been to Harry Potter. Walburga, in this case, stuck to planting a kiss upon his neat hair with minimal body contact, somehow retaining her upright posture as she did so (Cadmus supposed that he _was_ rather tall now, so she didn't need to bend much).

"I will, Mother, I assure you," he replied, and when Orion held out his hand, Cadmus grasped it firmly in his own. "Father," he said.

"Do as your mother tells you," said Orion. "Have a good year at Hogwarts. We will see you at Christmas."

Cadmus nodded. "Tell my brothers I wish them goodbye. I will see you then." But apparently that was not the end of the conversation, for when Cadmus turned to go, Orion put his large hand on Cadmus' shoulder and turned him so that he was enveloped in a hug.

It was odd, being in the arms of a man Cadmus knew only formally and with some strain: after all, The Dark Lord had used Orion's wife to procure himself an heir, and as honoured as he was, Orion was understandably affronted by the use of his wife as a two-legged womb (before he had even impregnated her himself, no less). Alas, he could not do anything about it, for who could refuse the Dark Lord? That was why he treated Cadmus with some distance, although he was very careful not to show his disdain.

"Your father," Orion began in a low voice, "expresses concern over the Headmaster and warns you to tread carefully, particularly if you are placed in Slytherin as you no doubt will be." He pulled back slightly and stared Cadmus in the eye. "Do not give him reason to suspect you. As a Black, you should cope well but if he finds out or even thinks for a moment that you are not who you say..."

Cadmus nodded. "Yes, Father, I understand."

"Then away with you. And good luck."

And so Cadmus boarded the train without a moments' hesitation.

It was wonderful to see the Hogwarts Express again! Although Harry had been on it so many times in his lives, seeing the cherry red train smoking along the tracks or waiting for him to board it was a feeling he never grew tired of. Perhaps seeing it reminded him of his first taste of freedom from the Dursleys, or perhaps it was simply his love of Hogwarts and magic itself that drove this nostalgia.

In any case, stepping aboard the train was like a trip to the past, and Harry took a deep breath and held it for a moment before turning right sharply in search of a free compartment. Conveniently, Harry found one nearest the front of the train, so he put his trunk overhead and sat down to read a book on experimental runes (for it seemed in between his lives there had been a great leap in the study of Runes and he needed to get caught up). He believed his most recent life was when he died in 1901, although for Harry that seemed millennia ago, as that was actually the third life he experienced and he was currently on his tenth.

It was strange, when Harry thought about it, how this Master of Death thing worked. He could be reborn at any point in time that was during or before his original life - ie, the timeline of Harry Potter. He could travel through periods of history (though he never had any say as to what year he'd be born into) but never could he travel past 2113, the year Harry Potter died. It was odd but he had long since accepted it, understanding that there were many years of civilisation he could experience that pre-dated the death of Harry Potter.

Being The Master of Death was something Harry was, at first, impartial to. He didn't like the idea of immortality, of having such power, and found that he should like to give it up immediately. It was only after the Reaper had appeared to Harry on Death's Plane (just as Harry was about to 'move on') that Harry had taken up the title of Master of Death, going on to live his first new life as Matthew Jackson.

Originally, Harry had agreed to be the Master of Death because... Well, Harry didn't really understand why he agreed, come to think of it. Perhaps it was Death's clammy, trembling hand reaching towards him that had convinced Harry to be the Master of Death, or perhaps it was the way that Death had bowed his head and drawn in one ragged, jarring breath... Yes, Death did not make dying look very appealing... However, Harry ultimately knew that it was the last few words Death bestowed upon him that had been the cause of Harry's change of heart:

" _Should you leave, you may never return. Should you remain, you may leave whenever it pleases you. To throw away this chance would be foolish. I will not be leashed by just anyone."_

They were simple words, really. They only stated facts. And yet they had struck something so deeply inside of Harry that Harry had immediately been convinced into staying.

"Uh - um - hi. Stranger. Do you have a spare seat I could take?"

Jerking back into the present, Cadmus looked up from his book and smiled crookedly at the young boy standing in the door. He was a sight to behold, the boy: his blonde hair was covered in black ash, his cheeks were chalky, his robes were dishevelled and one of his trouser legs was tucked into his sock.

"Yes, I do," said Cadmus as he closed his book, "I've several. Come in, please."

"Thanks."

The boy took one step into the compartment before he looked back out into the corridor - apparently he did not like what he saw, for his eyes widened comically and he slammed shut the door so carelessly behind himself that Cadmus half expected the glass to shatter. The boy then began to fumble hectically in his pockets, pulling out all sorts of odd trinkets as he evidently searched for his wand (muttering something about a drama queen as he did).

Cadmus saved him the effort by aiming a locking charm at the door.

It was then that the boy faced Cadmus completely. "Thank you for that, it certainly saved me the effort," he said, "and it may well have saved my life, to boot!"

"Indeed? Is there an axe murderer out there waiting to hack at you? I've never seen someone look so worried!"

"What - worried-?" The boy suddenly laughed and shook his head. "Oh, no, no, not a murderer, certainly not." The boy began to replace the contents of his pockets. "I'm Gaspard, by the way. I don't think I've ever seen you before."

Cadmus' eyebrows raised. "How could you have?"

But before Gaspard could reply, there was a great and sudden _t_ _hwack!_ as a different boy ran straight into the door. Cadmus immediately snorted - oh how he was glad he father wasn't there to witness _that_ indignity - and watched as the boy outside rubbed at his nose and started shouting angrily at Gaspard in some strange dialect. Gaspard was cringing and backed up a few steps when the boy began rattling the door handle.

"Friend of yours?" asked Cadmus.

Gaspard seemed to sigh. "Honestly, he's overreacting. Sure, I spiked his drink with an experimental sleeping agent that completely backfired by forcing him into a temporarily paralytic state whilst he burped up explosive ash, and _sure,_ he's now speaking back-to-front and backwards but honestly, he's not paralysed any more and he's almost stopped burping. You'd think he'd have forgiven me by now."

There was another loud bang at the door as the boy tried to force his way in but Gaspard simply waved him off. "Oh, ignore him, Tilden is simply being melodramatic. What did you say your name was?"

"Cadmus," said Cadmus. He wasn't sure whether he should help the boy, Tilden, outside but figured that they should wait until he had calmed down. "Cadmus Black. You're Gaspard?"

"Indeed, Gaspard Shingleton, at your service. Would you like to try an experimental sleeping agent? Make the ride to Hogwarts go by a little faster?"

Warily, Cadmus eyed the hand that Gaspard had just dug into his pocket and laughed. "I think I'll have to reject that offer but thank you for asking. Where did you get it, anyway?"

"Oh, I made it," said Gaspard. "I love all sorts of things like that. Constantly trying to invent new things, me, although sometimes they don't work out quite as planned." This statement was punctuated by a loud burp from outside, followed by another explosion and a cloud of black ash, much like the ash Gaspard himself was covered in. "Yes, yes, there we go, Tilden, keep coughing it up! I'm sure you'll get it all out eventually..."

Tilden glared at Gaspard through the glass but seemed to have more or less calmed down, and Cadmus figured it best to let him in. Once he had unlocked the door, Tilden looked reluctant to step in but after a moment of swaying indecisively on the spot, he took one large stride inside so he was standing millimetres in front of the door.

By this time, Gaspard had sat down and began rifling through a messenger bag, papers and odd machines and tools strewn across the seat, having completely forgotten about his test subject of a friend. Tilden continued to look icily at him, his glare growing all the fiercer when he realised Gaspard was ignoring him (inadvertently or no), and he even cleared his throat to try and gain his friend's attention but Gaspard did not stir until Tilden tapped, very forcefully, on Gaspard's shoulder.

Gaspard startled and looked up, his facial expression folding into neutrality when he saw who was accosting him. "Oh, yes, Tilden, hello! How are the spasms now? Are they passing?"

Tilden closed his eyes in suppressed fury as Gaspard prodded him forcefully in the arm, causing his arm to strike out in a spasm.

"Ah, I see. Still _suffering,_ then. At least you're no longer paralysed."

That seemed to be the end for poor Tilden, whose face turned such an attractive shade of puce (Harry was violently reminded of Uncle Vernon) that the speech seemed to _burst_ from him, and gibberish flew from his mouth in an incoherent rage.

"Now now, don't despair, I'm sure it'll wear off. Say hello to our new friend, why don't you, Tilden? You're being rude."

Tilden apparently grew abruptly aware of Cadmus' presence for he jumped up and stared hard at Cadmus' smiling face for a moment before quickly looking at the ground, his ears burning.

"I need to thank you, Tilden," said Cadmus smoothly, as though there was nothing out of the ordinary, "Gaspard offered me some of his sleeping agent and were it not for your assailing of him, I imagine I'd be in the same state as you by now. No offence intended, of course."

At this, Tilden managed a nod.

"I'm Cadmus. Gaspard here says your name is Tilden. You're both first years like me?"

"Oh yes, and I'm extremely excited. I hear Hogwarts offered numerous courses, all of which may better my scientific studies. Magic and science may go well together, I believe, especially if my study into Chemistry will help me advance in Potions..."

And so it continued. Cadmus found he rather liked the company of Gaspard, the oddball scientist, and Tilden, who, albeit, Cadmus could not get to know very well throughout the ride because of his unfortunate speech problems and explosive burps. Cadmus often found himself covered in ash and simply magicked it away but Gaspard, who was scribbling to himself away as he chattered continuously, didn't even seem aware it was covering him.

When the trolley arrived, however, Gaspard jerked back into a state of awareness.

"Aha!" he cried, causing the young witch pushing the trolley to startle. "Your arrival is simply perfect! Thank you! Now, you must sell me exactly 13 droobles, 3 and 1/3 liquorish wands, precisely one-point-five-oh chocolate frogs and a handful of jelly slugs. Please."

"I'm-" the witch looked somewhat frazzled. "I'm afraid we don't serve in those measurements."

"Oh, very well," sighed Gaspard. "A flask of pumpkin juice and a packet of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans then, if you will."

The lady did as asked before serving Cadmus and Tilden (who nodded and pointed at what he wanted), and the boys settled back down with their food.

"Why all the sweets?" asked Cadmus curiously.

"I'm trying to make the tastiest treat alive - a super sweet if you will!" Gaspard grinned. "I'm thinking if I analyse the most popular sweets, compare each one and use their individual addictive traits then I can manufacture the ultimate sweet and have so many galleons flowing into my account that I can work as a freelance scientist for my entire life." He sniffed. "Of course, I already believe Bertie Botts are superior but if anyone can make a sweet that outs them from the top dog position, then it's me."

Tilden, who could now at least make some humanoid noises, snorted.

"Oh, don't be jealous, Tilden. You know you'll be the first to try one of my sweets to let me know of any, ah, unfortunate side-affects... No need to feel put out!"

Wondering what his father would think of the two boys, Cadmus smiled to himself, and said, "I have the utmost confidence you will create something delicious. For now, let's refrain from testing on poor Tilden for a while. At least until he's stopped burping."

"But we don't know how long that could take!" Gaspard cried.

Nevertheless, when Tilden gave another explosive burp, Gaspard was forced to reluctantly agree as he wiped his pale face free of ash.

The trip to Hogwarts did not take too long after that, indeed it seemed to pass by very quickly. Before long, Cadmus and his two new friends were clambering out with pockets stuffed with sweets and were drawn to an elderly man with a scruff of a beard and kindly brown eyes. His eyebrows, on the other hand, looked like separate entities drawn close together on his brow.

"First years to me!" the man was calling. "First years, over here with old Ogg!"

Oh, yes. Ogg, the man was called. Yes, Harry vaguely recalled something about him. Hagrid was the assistant to this man after he was expelled, wasn't he? That probably meant Harry would be meeting up with Hagrid, his old friend and the next gamekeeper of Hogwarts. He briefly wondered if that was a good thing. After all, being surrounded by so many people from his past life could hardly do wonders for his mental well-being. Then he reminded himself that he was hundreds of years old and had been through worse and had, more importantly, already lived 11 years of this life with many familiar faces. It seemed he needed to get his thoughts in order and his priorities straightened out.

Regardless of this, Cadmus forced himself to keep walking forward with Gaspard and Tilden. The other First Years were starting to swarm around them as they all congregated around Old Man Ogg... Cadmus felt a bit suffocated.

"What kind of name is Ogg, anyway?" Tilden muttered, throwing a dark look at one of the nearby girls who had just shrieked enthusiastically. At some point in the past hour he had regained limited speech - limited because it was drastically slurred and still sounded foreign on his tongue.

"Ogg is only as odd as the name Tilden, you have to admit," said Cadmus.

Gaspard seemed unruffled. "Yes, yes, your names are _both_ very odd. Cadmus and Tilden... who on earth named you...?"

"And Gaspard isn't odd?" Tilden returned.

"No, no, my name is much more common than Ogg or Tilden... _Tilden_! Really."

Tilden's eyes narrowed and his face folded into a scowl.

Cadmus felt himself smile. If nothing else, it was good to be back at Hogwarts. It was the only constant in all his lives, his immoveable centre, and the only true home he would ever know. These feelings rang through him as they approached the boats and clambered inside, and he stared down into the glassy water, thinking of the creatures that were submerged beneath the surface.

The boats were split between four students. Cadmus was with Gaspard and Tilden but they were also joined by a boy called Stubby Boardman, whom Cadmus vaguely recalled as being the lead singer in The Hobgoblins (because Sirius was once mistaken for him).

"Gryffindor," proudly proclaimed Stubby. "That's where I'll be, no doubt about it. My da was there and my ma was there as well. Definitely a Gryffindor, me..."

Gryffindor... Harry thought wistfully of the tower, with it's toasty fireplace and warm interior. It was where he found himself, where he lived, where he made his first friends. He could recall everything about it so vividly: despite having been Sorted into all four of the Houses in different lives, Gryffindor was the most frequent and unashamedly his favourite.

This time around, however, Harry was to be placed into Slytherin. Which was at least partly why Cadmus was not nervous as he and the rest of the First Years entered the Great Hall and lined up in front of the deputy head, Minerva McGonagall. No matter how many times Harry took the Sorting, he always felt at least a little nervous. Unless, of course, he knew the result.

The Sorting Hat was not stupid. It knew all about the people's duties and needs, their expectations and choices and took them all into account, despite having to Sort each student based on their personality and thoughts. It was sentient, after all: it had thoughts, feelings and ideas, and it could write lyrics, make decisions, feel emotions like any real person could. Hence why Cadmus was not surprised when, upon _his_ sitting on the three-legged stool, the Hat, not even a second after touching his head, immediately exclaimed:

" _Oh, for goodness' sake...!"_

And Harry had to suppress a great laugh from escaping.

" _Hello, Hat,_ " he thought.

" _Not you again, surely not... How many lives can one man have?!"_

" _Many,_ " thought Harry back, _"if that man is the Master of Death._ "

 _"Surely not so sporadically - I thought the last time I Sorted you, I'd be shot of you for good."_

 _"Yeah, but if you survive so many years, you get another life for free..."_

" _Don't get smart with me,_ " thought the Hat, _"I now have to listen to you cajole and convince me one more times which House it is that I should place you into despite my better judgement. This time, however, I'm not up to listening to you blather on about which House it is you need. In which case, where are you going to this time, hmm?"_

 _"Well-"_

 _"Ah, yes. Slytherin, I see, how very interesting..." the Hat interrupted. "For you father, hmm? A Dark Lord... The Dark Lord you will later kill! I see, I see... well, how interesting is_ that _..."_

 _"You're a dangerous thing,"_ Harry thought. " _Knowing everything about me so effortlessly, everything I think and want and wonder..._ "

" _If only I didn't have to,"_ thought the Hat wistfully. " _Although I can't deny it is one of my joys, looking into your mind... It would be wrong to take advantage of looking into the minds of children."_

 _"That's Godric Gryffindor's morality, that is,"_ Harry thought with amusement. " _Salazar would have done it anyway, reasoning that children tend to see a lot more than adults."_

 _"I miss them, at times,"_ thought the Hat, " _but that is not what we are here to do. Come visit me again at some point, you miserable man..."_

" _I will,"_ thought Harry.

" _Excellent,"_ said the Hat back and then, with a great roar, the Hat cried for all the hall to hear: "SLYTHERIN!"

No surprise there, people must have been thinking as Cadmus strode towards the Slytherin table: it was expected that a Black be Slytherin. He was, however, the first Slytherin to be Sorted and so he got a very loud cheer indeed. He was welcomed by the older years with respect and fervour (a Black among their ranks was always to be treated as an elite) and then they settled down with expectation, watching the other students get Sorted.

It came as no surprise to Harry that Stubby Boardman was placed in Gryffindor. Mostly everyone went where Harry predicted apart from, to his greatest surprise, Gaspard and Tilden: Harry had pegged Gaspard for a Ravenclaw and Tilden for a Gryffindor. Instead, Gaspard was placed in Slytherin with Cadmus ("Cadmus!" Gaspard had exclaimed, "How good to be with you! Perhaps you wont be so uptight about me measuring your brain activity in your sleep...") and Tiden, to Harry's greatest surprise, was a Ravenclaw ("That's old Tilden Tooks," said Gaspard almost fondly, "looks as dumb as a brick but he can kill you with a single strike!")

Tilden seemed to be pleased with his placement and Gaspard presumably had no qualms about where he was placed as long as he got to attend. In fact, Gaspard seemed more enthused about the food at that very moment, admiring how magic could step around issues involving the centre of mass and make the food pile up in odd and wonderful ways (eating it, it appeared, was more of a bonus to Gaspard who bewoed having to destroy such "creations"). Once the feast had finished, Cadmus grew tense, for throughout the meal he had felt a certain pair of eyes watching him with care and worried that already, his disguise was crumbling around him.

Albus Dumbledore was not a stupid nor a simple man, however much his opening lines before the feast had suggested that he was ("I cannot be heard over the sound of my stomach and so pretty words can wait for later! For now, I invite you, to dig in!"). He had obviously seen something of Tom Riddle in Cadmus - indeed, they did look startlingly alike, although Cadmus' hair boasted the signature Black waves and curls). This was why, when Cadmus was brought to attention with the rest of the hall, he knew that Dumbledore had taken great care not to meet his eyes.

"Greetings, fellow friends and students, for another year at Hogwarts! For those who are fresh among us, I welcome you to our school, and promise that many years of fun and intrigue lie ahead..."

And so it went on: Dumbledore introduced new staff members, said goodbye to the old, and read out the short list of items that were banned by the current caretaker (noticeably less exhaustive than Mr. Filch's). It was after this that the familiar reminder came regarding the Forbidden Forest - this time with a much darker overtone.

"This year, as all the years before, the Forbidden Forest is off-limits to those who are not escorted by a teacher. If you dare to venture in alone, be warned that those who before you have regretted it as keenly as the last..." That was when his eyes definitely locked on to Cadmus'. It was like wind clapping him across the cheeks, like lightning striking down his spine, but Cadmus kept his expression schooled calm and orderly, and Dumbledore did not dare keep staring with those preternaturally light eyes of his.

He looked away, and Cadmus smiled.

"And now, to bed with you all!" Dumbledore concluded. "I wish you all sweet dreams and happiness, and a wonderful first day tomorrow."

Everyone began to talk, and stand, and Cadmus did too. He stood with everyone else, followed the prefects with the rest of the First Years, and engaged Gaspard in conversation (even managing to bid Tilden Tooks a goodnight in the hectic crowds) but he was distracted. His mind was elsewhere, still locked in on that cold moment with Dumbledore, as he wondered with part dread what Tom Riddle had ever gotten up to in the Forbidden Forest for Cadmus to earn a look like that.

He did not turn around as he left the Hall, did not meet Dumbledore's blistery gaze, but the temptation - as most temptations were - was certainly hard to resist.


	7. Goodness Never Fearful

_I'm afraid that not a lot happens in this chapter. We see some Slytherin politics, and introduction to routine and people's reactions to Harry's arrival. Enjoy!_

* * *

 **–** **CHAPTER SEVEN –**  
 **Goodness Never Fearful**

* * *

Whenever Harry was Sorted into Slytherin, he liked to stare out into the lake, sat right in front of the glass, and watch the sea life swim by. Gaspard did not think him odd for this, as many others did: he simply sat next to Cadmus, tinkering with whatever wizarding item he could get his hands on, and would report on the various anomalies in the behaviour of the fish or the grendylows or merpeople, and spew interesting facts about how they lived.

It was on one dark Monday morning that Cadmus was especially lucky to have come down the stairs at six o'clock and find the giant squid lodged to the glass by its tentacles. A Third Year girl by the name of Weiss had screamed when she saw it because apparently she was scared of it, and so Gaspard has spent a nice ten minutes explaining that the glass was enchanted so that while it could ordinarily break through, the charms in place stopped it from drowning us all under the large body of water that would surely engulf the common room. He then explained that he didn't even _blame_ her for being scared because the giant squid would need only one of its tentacles to squeeze her to death and that she had a much larger chance escaping a great white shark were she not bleeding.

Weiss had, consequently, been escorted to the Hospital Wing for a Calming Draught – Gaspard had gone into a lot of graphic detail – and Cadmus and Gaspard spent the next ten minutes suffering under the distaste-ridden gazes of the other pupils. Even Cadmus' status as a Black did not help their rapid downfall of popularity in Slytherin – indeed, it served only to hinder him, as apparently the way he was acting was "unbefitting of a Black" and he was "putting the family name to shame."

Bellatrix Black, Harry's dear cousin and Seventh Year, grew especially fond therefore of a rather nasty curse that blinded the receiver for half an hour. "No-one stares at _you_ like that," she had said, and it was probably to get brownie points from her Lord but it only made Harry's wish to stay as far away from her as possible even more vehement.

Bellatrix – indeed, all of the Blacks – knew who Cadmus really was, of course. Walburga and Orion would not risk Cadmus being treated badly by his cousins and so would have warned them in advance to be on their best behaviour around him, to try and impress the Dark Lord and to gain favour rather than lose it. As Cadmus had to write to his father that night, he knew he could not avoid including Bellatrix's assistance – but, he thought, he would turn it on its head so that the Voldemort would tell her to stop "assisting" Cadmus.

 **"She is the one we do not like?"** asked Selene from his pocket. Cadmus was in the middle of buttering some toast – Gaspard had gone to talk to Slughorn about Felix Felicis and how it could be incorporated into food – and so they could talk in private.

" **Yes,** " he told her, " **She may be more stable now but that is only because she hasn't lived through Azakaban – but make no mistake, she is extremely malicious."**

Selene hissed. **"I could bite her,"** she offered, and Cadmus tried not to laugh.

 **"I don't think Voldemort would like that much,"** he said.

Selene was quiet for a moment, and she was completely still in Cadmus' robe pocket. " **Why do you not call him your father?** " she asked. " **He calls you his son, he calls you by your name.** "

" **Voldemort is his name,"** Cadmus said, although he suddenly felt much less hungry. " **And although he may call me Cadmus, I am nothing but a tool to him. He calls me only his heir and it's because he thinks, impressionable as I'm supposed to be, it will make me feel special. He just wants to use me.** "

" **Humans are confusing,** " she said, " **why can't you just be clear with one another?** "

Cadmus smiled. " **Snake though you may be,** " he said, **"you are surely no Slytherin.** "

Selene gently bit his stomach.

"Fascinating…" said Gaspard as he returned, "fascinating… Professor Slughood doesn't think it is possible for me to gather so much felix felicis that I could put it in sweets and sell it for years to come _but_ I think I could make a much more condensed, weaker version that–"

"It's Slug _horn_ , Gaspard," said Cadmus.

"What? Oh, yes, Slughord. Sorry. Where is Tilden?"

Yet another reason they were disliked: they invited a member of another House to breakfast with them every morning.

"He had to go to the Library before class."

"Oh, I see… Where are we first?"

Selene hissed softly in his pocket: " **He would forget his head were it not attached to his neck.** "

Cadmus patted her softly to get her to quieten. "Transfiguration, Gaspard, just as it was last Monday."

They had only been attending the school for a week and while Gaspard was understandably overwhelmed by it all, it seemed to be his wandering thoughts and brilliant ideas that had him so forgetful most of the time. He was marvellous in class, however – he paid the utmost attention and never missed a beat.

"Ah, yes. To class, then – but first, some cereal! You know I could kill for a bowl of Coco Pops right about now?"

But of course he was still only a child.

Transfiguration was interesting. Of course, having lived so many lives meant Cadmus knew everything she was saying, particularly because it was First Year, but he was simply happy to watch Minerva McGonagall do her thing as he could so vividly remember from his life as Harry Potter. He had loved her then, admired her, and he still did. She was the sort of woman you wanted on your side.

The class had passed by extremely smoothly except for one slight bump in the road. McGonagall, being much younger than Harry had known her, was also less shrewd. Still very witty and clever but younger and freer, McGonagall had at one point looked over at Cadmus and said, as though she were in another time and place, "Yes, Mr. Riddle–" and frozen stiff.

Cadmus' hand, which had been raised in the air, slowly fell by his side. She had called him Riddle. As in Tom Riddle. Dumbledore must have told her his concerns, then, and she must have shared them for she _knew_ Tom Riddle from school… Cadmus would have to be more careful than he thought.

"My name's Cadmus Black, Miss," he said. This was no problem. A slight hiccup. No-one in the class would derive any meaning from it…

"Yes, of course. My apologies, Mr. Black. Now, I believe you know the answer?"

The rest of the lesson – and, indeed, the day – passed swiftly after that. Soon it was dinner, and then evening, and Cadmus was curled up in an armchair writing the expected letter to his father.

 _Father,_

 _My first week at Hogwarts passed well, I believe. I was Sorted into Slytherin, as I'm sure you know by now, and have made friends with a scientist called Gaspard Shingleton and a Ravenclaw called Tilden Toots. I believe both will go far in life and are good allies to have, despite Gaspard's half-blood status. They have known each other since they were young and Tilden is a pure-blood, whose parents are nobody of any particular consequence._

 _My favourite subject is, of course, Defence Against the Dark Arts although I think you are a much better teacher. My skill in this class seems to be, to my fellow Slytherins, my only redeeming quality: they think I am a shame to the Black name, an oddball, and a failure. I will show them otherwise. I know you have to earn respect in Slytherin, Father, and I am more than prepared to do so. I am willing. I want to show what I am capable of. Soon, I will be someone who is the epitome of all Blacks – and then I will be even more than that. I will be the epitome of a Slytherin._

 _However, to get there, I need to prove myself. I will not have other people carve the way for me and make me look weak. Therefore, please get Bellatrix to stop interfering: while I understand why she may wish to help, blinding Slytherins on my behalf is not a good start to my school career and is, most importantly, distasteful. I could do a better job._

 _I hope all of your endeavours are going well. I doubt not your skill but the skill of others, and I know you can more than make up for their mistakes._

 _Say hello to Sirius and Regulus for me._

 _Your loyal son,_ _  
 _Cadmus Black.__

* * *

The reply arrived two days later.

 _Cadmus,_

 _It was never a doubt that you would be placed in Slytherin, for your blood is of the strongest Slytherins and the strongest magic – Salazar himself would wish to teach you, although alas you shall have to settle for Slughorn. At least he is a man that is appreciative of skill._

 _I'm uncertain your choice of company is wise, given your low-status situation at the moment, but if you believe they will become worthy allies with time then I give my approval – but keep watch should this situation change. Your rank in Slytherin is precious, as I am certain I do not have to remind you, but you are not there for people to like you. You are there to learn, to climb ladders, to show others what you can do. To inspire them._

 _Of course, you are my son, so you will easily be renowned by the end of this year. If you are not, we shall have to have a talk about what you have been doing when instead you could have been bettering yourself and your status. I'm certain you will have a good explanation._

 _As for Bellatrix, consider it already dealt with. I have told her mother and she will be dealing with Bellatrix herself to ensure the gravity of the situation is nailed through that head of hers. I am glad you see that you must raise your own name on your own._

 _Keep in touch. I have much to do this month but things are all going well. The key, Cadmus, is to make sure no mistakes are made in the first place._

 _Remember this._

 _Your father,_ _  
Orion Black._

" **That wasn't so bad,** " he said to Selene, whom he had read the letter to upon her request. " **He's not displeased.** "

" **He's not happy, either,** " said Selene. " **Is this what you humans call subtext? It is not subtle. His threat is clear.** "

Cadmus shrugged. " **He only wants me to succeed.** "

" **So do I but I don't go around biting you when you annoy me, do I?** "

" **Actually,** " said Cadmus, " **you do.** "

Selene grumbled nonsensically around her bacon, and Cadmus laughed quietly. He was going to have to clean his robes tonight: his inside pocket must reek of sweaty meat.

Pocketing the letter and finishing his eggs, Cadmus stood when suddenly Narcissa was stood beside him, her expression immaculately cold. "Cousin Cadmus," she said, "I don't believe we've spoken since your arrival at Hogwarts."

Cadmus, who had been eating alone because he had woken so early, turned to face her. "Cousin Narcissa," he said, "I believe you're correct. How have the first two weeks as Hogwarts been treating you?"

"Rather well," she answered. "Lucius Malfoy has taken the time out to talk to me. I believe it is our parents' wish that we marry."

Cadmus recalled, shortly before leaving for Hogwarts, Abraxas Malfoy on his hands and knees and kissing the hem of Voldemorts robes, and smiled tightly. "He is from a respectable family," he said.

"Indeed. I wonder if you will find a respectable woman to pair with?"

"Perhaps when I am older."

"Of course, Cousin, but it is never too early to think about these things…"

They walked in silence for a few moments.

"I see that your reputation is currently in the deep end. Are you in the middle of rectifying this – hiccup?"

"I am, although I should remind you that it is none of your business. I'd be very displeased to hear you reporting anything back to my father or interfering in any way. I will, of course, clear any of my actions with him first."

Narcissa's chin lifted. "Of course, Cousin," she said. "I would never interfere."

But she said her goodbye quickly after that, and Cadmus was forced to conclude that should he not start rebuilding his reputation soon, there would be many people who would happily do it for him – and one person in particular he would extremely displease.


	8. Give Every Man Thy Ear

_I'm sorry this chapter is so short. However, this chapter is much more eventful! I've already written the next one and should be posting it sometime this week: that will feature going home and facing Tom Riddle._

* * *

 **– CHAPTER EIGHT –**  
 **Give Every Man Thy Ear**

* * *

There was little to be done about Cadmus' reputation for the moment and so he let the issue settle, continuing as he normally would. He worked, of course, to get people to think more highly of him: he helped others with their homework, hinting only at a skill he was not unwise enough to share; participated in jokes and schemes; deftly manipulated situations towards his own gain; and wore, whenever he could, expensive clothing that displayed his status in wizarding society. However, he was still only a First Year with two friends and although, as far as everyone else knew, he was the heir to the Black family he had not yet been given the ring. That meant he currently held no political power, no sway over Slytherin due to his age, and he would expectedly go about his life as an average Black, marrying, mating and then dying.

Slytherins weren't dumb, however: they knew Cadmus would eventually become powerful to an extent, especially due to his marks in class, and so they were careful to only treat him with disdain when he did something seemingly "untoward". McGonagall, surprisingly, had been the first teacher to notice this and had approached him thus:

"Mr. Black," she began, after asking him to stay behind after the lesson, "I must compliment you on your spellcasting today. You were able to flawlessly transform your match into a needle… However…"

And Cadmus, who had been smiling, suddenly grew wary.

"However, I have noticed at times that the older years in your House have been treating you with a lack of respect and a consideration for your feelings. If this is as frequent as I have come to believe…"

"Oh, no," Cadmus had said, snatching at the opportunity. "It's a- it's a Slytherin thing. They may not like me much now but in a year or two I'm hoping they will."

McGonagall arched a fine eyebrow. "Yes," she said, "I'm well aware of Slytherin's ridiculous political climate."

"Then you understand why you can't interfere!"

"Yes, I do, Mr. Black. I am not here to interfere, I am here to _help._ " She had paused, looking him over with consideration. "You are still just a child," she said, and her voice was softer that time. "Slughorn, however, knows of you: you are the Black heir, after all, and your family has a famed reputation. He believes you will go far in life and wants you to join the Slug Club."

"But he never accepts First Years!"

McGonagall's smile had been wry that time. "Which is why it would be so advantageous for you to be accepted, isn't it?"

It _was_ advantageous. If Slughorn had truly taken a notice of him due to his status as a Black and his success in all of his lessons, then surely he would be accepted, especially if McGonagall was telling him this. Slughorn must intend to invite him.

"Then – he'll ask–?"

"Sometime this week, yes, Mr. Black." McGonagall had been watching him closely. "I'm glad you are pleased with this news but I must ask: all the blinded students…?"

Cadmus had frowned, and he hadn't needed to pretend. "Bellatrix," he said darkly. "She wasn't helping my cause at all, and anyway, it is a terribly nasty spell. How horrible it would be to be suddenly blind!"

"Yes, well…" McGonagall certainly was a very shrew witch. "Prepare for Slughorn's meeting with the Slug Club next Tuesday, and hurry on to lunch, now! You're sure to need all the energy you can get when dealing with that man."

And so Cadmus had left for lunch and spent his time trying to convince Gaspard that yes, he really would be unsettled if Gaspard watched him sleep, and that he would prefer he not try it at all. Indeed, by the end of the day, Cadmus had forgotten all about Slughorn and his invitation. That was, until now, as Slughorn had managed to corner him in the hallway after dinner.

"Mr. Black!" he cried. "Good to see you, good to see you, you're looking very sharp today! Wouldn't expect any less from a Black, of course!"

Cadmus slowly tried to pull his hand out of Slughorn's grasp, as the man was shaking it extremely violently. "Yes, sir, good to see you too, Professor Slughorn."

"And so polite! I'm sure young ladies will soon be throwing themselves at your feet!"

Slughorn was still shaking Cadmus' hand. "Er, yes, I suppose. But my father had to approve–"

"Oh, of course, of course," agreed to the Professor, "yes, that was standard, in my day. Only right to do that! Now there are couples eloping far and wide, although personally I never understood the appeal…" Finally he dropped Cadmus' hand, only to clap his grasp on Cadmus' shoulder instead. "Did I mention how wonderful your potion was yesterday, my boy? As impressive as always. You certainly set a standard."

"My father has tutored me ever since I was very young," said Cadmus, "if I hadn't picked up a thing or two in that time, I imagine he'd be very upset."

Guffawing, Slughorn said, "Right you are, Cadmus, right you are! In fact, it is exactly that skill that has led me to seek you out and invite you to my most prestigious group, the Slug Club! It's extremely rare that I invite a First Year but someone of your particular talents – well–"

"Really, sir?!" Cadmus tried to look excited. "You'd have me in the Slug Club?!"

"Have you?!" cried the professor. "Why, it would be an honour, my boy! What do you say, hm? Next meeting is in my office on Tuesday next week! 7:00 o'clock!"

Cadmus smiled. "It would be my honour, sir," he said.

"Excellent, excellent, I'll see you then…"

And he caught another student's eye and rushed away to speak with them.

It was cold in the corridor. Cadmus was just returning from the library – he bemoaned that it closed at nine o'clock – and was slinking down one of the shortcut's the Founders had installed (that the Marauder's Map did not know of) when he heard voices rounding the corner and closed the tapestry back up over the hole. It muffled the conversation, but they were getting close enough that Cadmus could just make out their hushed tones:

"Albus, the boy is eleven, for goodness' sake! We have it on good authority that he is a Black! He is harmless! It is that Bellatrix you have to watch out for; she is a nasty piece of work."

"Minerva," said Dumbledore gravely, "the boy looks strikingly similar to Tom Riddle. I know he has not yet done anything that could raise suspicions but neither did Tom, he had everyone fooled–"

"Apart from you," hissed Minerva McGonagall. "Albus, you only suspect the child because he is a Slytherin who looks somewhat like a boy who is incapable of feeling love! That child is not emotionless as _he_ was."

Dumbledore sighed. "Nor do I expect him to be," he said. "Indeed, I do not feel about him as I did Tom Riddle, but I will spend many years kicking myself if my suspicions are proven correct. Tom Riddle having an heir would be disastrous for us, especially if they are in Hogwarts!"

"We can stop him, Albus. His power may be rising but I doubt he would use a boy to carve his way to victory."

"I hope, for everyone's sakes, that you are right, Minerva. For now, let us stop talking about this – I imagine there are some students who are still out after curfew…"

Curfew? Cadmus glanced at his watch and his eyes bugged. Curfew! It was half ten! How had it taken him so long to get back? Had he been walking that slowly? Or perhaps his watch was-

Cadmus suddenly froze. It was dark in the passageway, a good place to gather one's thoughts, and while his head was still turning from the conversation he overhead (it confirmed all that he had been thinking) his thoughts, instead, turned inwards. If someone had charmed him, if someone had – he felt violated thinking about it – gotten the best of him, there should be remnants of the spell residing inside of him, a crack that would show what had happened…

And there it was. His memories, although seeming to flawlessly knot together, stuttered only moments before he entered the tapestry. Were he not living his eleventh life, having been charmed many, many more times than anyone would ever believe, he would never have spotted such artful spellcasting.

Nevertheless, he had been obliviated. And certainly, due to the high quality of the spell, it was the work of no student. A teacher had obliviated him. Dumbledore was currently the most likely candidate: he was nearby, he had reason to doubt Cadmus, and to ensure Cadmus had nothing of value to report back to the Dark Lord (if Voldemort was indeed his father, as Dumbledore suspected). That meant that, if Dumbledore had obliviated him, he also set up that scene for Cadmus to overhear. Perhaps to warn him that Dumbledore had his suspicions about him. But for what purpose?

What had Cadmus seen that meant obliviating him was the only countermeasure available?

Cadmus considered this as he discreetly made his way back to Slytherin House. He arrived within twenty minutes, whispered the password to the wall, and shot through the Common Room up to his dorm before those who yet lingered could question him on his whereabouts. Slytherins were generally good about minding their own business, however, unless of course it would help them in some way.

In his dorm, all his first year roommates were asleep, apart from Gaspard who was sitting on his bed next to Cadmus', fiddling with (and getting oil all over his striped pyjamas) some sort of engine. "Oh," he said, upon seeing Cadmus, "I figured you had run away."

Cadmus looked at him incredulously. "I've been gone only for a couple of hours, Gaspard."

"Yes, but you were having nightmares last night, and I figured they were something so horrific you wanted to run from this castle and never look back." He quickly moved on before Cadmus could question him about how he knew such a thing. "So," he continued, "where have you been?"

"The library," Cadmus said.

"Closes at nine," Gaspard said.

Cadmus nodded. "Yeah," and he leaned in very close to whisper, so quietly he could barely hear himself, "got obliviated."

"Oh dear," Gaspard said, as if this was the most normal confession in the world. "What a shame we'll never know why."


	9. Manners Maketh Man

_I decided to publish this chapter just because I spent the day writing it and am now exhausted haha. I love writing this story. Two updates in one day! Aren't you such lucky things?_

 _I hope you enjoy this chapter. 4000 words! That might just be the longest yet._

* * *

 **– CHAPTER NINE –**  
 **Manners Maketh Man**

* * *

The dorm room was dark, lit only by the candles that glowed ominously against the submerged windows and cast shadows across the floor. Cadmus was lying across his bed, entrenched in thought.

" **McGonagall has been watching you** ," Selene said from her place on his pillow.

Cadmus glanced fleetingly at her. " **They've all been watching me. Dumbledore has no reason to confirm his theory of me being the sprog of Voldemort but neither does he have reason to counter it. If he were to see me acting in a way he believes to be genuine, without it gaining me favour…"**

" **He would still suspect you, wouldn't he?"**

Cadmus deflated. " **Definitely. Perhaps with more scrutiny than before, too…** "

" **And how many years of Hogwarts must we live under his blinded watch?** "

" **Only seven.** "

Selene seemed amused. " **I am seven,** " she said. " **So that seems a long time to me.** "

It was early evening, and mostly everyone was still at dinner. Cadmus had been feeling a bit ill and so, making his polite excuses, had left early. He thought, truthfully, that he was just tired: he had spent the entire night plotting and thinking, considering his future with Voldemort and how next he should move. Obviously he should aim for the Horcruxes and destroy all of them before confronting Voldemort himself but, it seemed, Voldemort had not yet hidden his Horcruxes. Harry had laboured under the illusion that Voldemort had hidden the Horcruxes in Hogwarts upon his interview for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position in 1956 but he had given Cadmus the locket extremely early on, and there was no possible way he had gotten into Hogwarts to retrieve it… And he wouldn't trust an ordinary Slytherin with such a task… perhaps a Governor?

" **But who could that be**?" Cadmus asked aloud, and Selene had just slithered up and around his shoulders when Cadmus became suddenly aware of a presence behind him. He jumped up, with gusto, and his wand was in his hand before he realised he had reached for it.

"Cherry, is that? Nine inches and… the core?"

Cadmus helped Selene steady herself on his shoulders and then said, "Dragon heartstring."

"Dragon heartstring and cherry, really? How curious… Ollivander says only the most exceptional wizards can deal with such a hazardous combination…"

"Well, Lucius," said Cadmus, "I didn't get put in Slytherin because I'm a Gryffindor in disguise."

Lucius Malfoy's smile was sharp, his long, pale hair illuminated in a candle's warmth. Harry found himself surprised that Lucius did not melt.

"Indeed," agreed Lucius, "that wonderful language you were speaking earlier is evidence of that enough, is it not?"

Cadmus did not let his body turn rigid. Instead, forcing himself to look small and defenceless, he turned to Selene and said, " **I believe opportunity has struck.** "

" **He is your key to a better reputation?** " asked Selene.

With a shake of his head, Cadmus said, " **My darling, he is my reputation,** " and he levelled his gaze back at Lucius, making sure not to look into his eyes.

"I don't believe you've met my familiar, have you, Lucius?" he said timidly. "This is Selene, an Iridescent Shieldtail."

" **How do you do, Ice Queen?** "

Lucius bowed shortly. "A pleasure. I had, along with all the other Slytherins, been under the mistaken impression that your owl was your familiar."

" **That fuzzball couldn't familiarise himself with his reflection!** "

"Well, that's what my father wanted everyone to–" and Cadmus stopped short and cleared his throat, as though he had just revealed a secret he had sworn not to. "I mean… May I ask to what I owe the pleasure of your company?"

His gaze glossing over the scene, Lucius was extremely cavalier as he said, "Certainly you may. I had not come to watch what you do in private and lord over you by utilising all your darkest secrets, if that is what you have been thinking –"

"–doesn't seem a very Slytherin thing to think–"

"–indeed, I have come to formally introduce myself. It is the wish of dear Narcissa that we should meet and although I had no conception of how this meeting would be beneficial to me, I now understand that Narcissa knows… best."

Of course, the Slytherin way of things was to make alliances that would benefit your stature, your position, your political sway. However, Lucius would now think he had the upper hand – he knew a secret of Cadmus' and could tell everyone were Cadmus not to extend the hand of friendship whenever he should need it in the future. This young Lucius, however, not nearly so clever with words, did not realise he was falling right into Harry's hands.

"Niceties must be exchanged for the sake of Cousin Narcissa, of course," agreed Cadmus, "but…" and he sagged like a disappointed eleven-year-old would be expected to, defeated by his loneliness. "It's useless. My father's so disappointed with me… I'm afraid you and I are on entirely different leagues. We couldn't possibly associate with one another."

Lucius' face tightened only slightly with agitation but Cadmus saw it anyway, and crushed down his sense of victory. "Indeed," said Lucius. "Climbing to the top of the Slytherin social ladder takes a good two years… And that simply will not do. After all, I cannot marry into a family whose members are not all renowned…"

Cadmus looked pitifully down at the floor. "People don't want to like me," he said quietly, and Selene hissed a laugh by his side, "Maybe my thoughts _are_ that transparent. Maybe I shouldn't be in Slytherin… It's hopeless. You should find a better wife, Mr. Malfoy, one with a better family."

But poor Lucius was much too in love with Narcissa to accept _that_.

"Stand up straight," he said, and Cadmus shot back his shoulders like a scared teenager. "There we go. Chin up. Face blank. Stop such emotional displays of _nonsense_ – you are a Black, for goodness sake! We will fix your reputation–" at the cheesy grin Cadmus gave, Lucius scowled, and Cadmus curtailed it into a solemn purse of his lips, "–or rather, _I_ will fix your reputation. So long as you continue to uphold your position as being the best wizard in your year, there should be no problem."

"Lucius, I don't know how I can possibly express my gratitude… My father is certain to be pleased with me…"

"Oh, time will tell how that can be done." Lucius' smile was positively haughty as he turned on his heel to leave the room. "Now finish your homework and get to bed. If you are to go home to your father next week, you want him thinking the best of you, and I shan't have my efforts tarnished by your laziness. Sweet dreams, Mr. Black. You best not disappoint me." And he left with the air of a self-righteous bigot.

" **I like him even less than the chubby anaconda I met before my joining with you,** " said Selene. " **Can I bite him?** "

Cadmus shook his head. " **You may have taught the anaconda a thing or two,** " he replied, " **but Lucius is much too useful to us for that. Perhaps another time.** "

Although unhappy, Selene agreed. " **What a nuisance – but if that's what you wish…** "

" **It is. Now try to get some sleep. It may be early, but I really am feeling unwell.** "

 **0**

Snow had been gradually gathering over the months, and the next week it was at the peak of its power, burying half the school grounds up to student's knees. Snow had always fascinated Harry, despite how many years he had seen it, despite its arrival every winter. Whenever the ground became frigid and cold with the first falings of snow, Harry's mood inexplicably lifted and he found whatever excuse he could to make his way out into the Hogwarts grounds and walk among the tides. He savoured how it slid together beneath his feet, how his robe collected flake after flake as though they were sea shells one would keep for memory's sake, the sound it made as he stepped and slipped up.

He was, that morning, making his way across the grounds into Hogsmead, where they would board the Hogwarts Express. Tilden was walking by his side, although he seemed to enjoy the walk much less than Harry.

"Don't know how you can stand this," he said, and as Harry stopped him from falling on his behind, he added, " _literally_."

But Cadmus only laughed. "Surely this is a nice reprieve from Gaspard's experimentations?"

"It's hardly much of a break, is it?" Tilden snorted. "Was he measuring your pulse in your sleep last night?"

"Indeed – apparently he wants to make a reusable magical charm that will effectively induce lucid dreams that you can choose to wake from." It sounded pretty cool to Harry.

"Oh, like I give a crap," Tilden said. "He's crazy."

"He's spending Christmas with you," said Cadmus with a tweak to his lips. "However will you survive?"

Gaspard was not walking with them because he was "otherwise engaged". He had urged them on ahead and told them not to bother waiting, told them he'd find them on the train but that first he needed to finish very carefully packing a "few things" for his stay at Tilden's house. Apparently, he wanted to study to genetic difficulties purebloods suffered due to inbreeding.

Tilden was, understandably, irked. "I think I may feed him a valerian tonic – a fast-acting sleeping agent," he said, upon Cadmus' quizzical look. "A sort of plant."

Harry liked Herbology but never really cared to look further into it. He knew he underestimated its power but on the battlefield there wasn't a lot of practical application: it was much better for slow-moving subterfuge. However, Tilden Toots was a marvellous herbologist and loved to learn all he could. He reminded Harry of his old friend Neville except he recalled that in the future Tilden Toots was someone Neville himself looked up at: Tilden would later in life become the presenter of ' _Toots, Shoots 'n' Roots'_ and was a renowned Potioneer. Currently, however, Tilden was just as abysmal at Potions as Neville had been – or would be...

Stepping on to the Platform, Harry helped Tilden up and then hoisted their luggage behind them. He left them with the pile, stepped on the train, and went in search of an empty compartment.

They had been there for over half an hour, knowing the train was to leave in another ten minutes, when Gaspard finally arrived.

"Oh dear," he said, "almost missed the train, how silly of me–"

Cadmus, however, could hardly pay him attention. On the platform outside, dotted with flakes of snow, Andromeda looked as beautiful in her youth as he had ever seen her. She was talking to a Hufflepuff, a tall, lanky lad with a charming smile and a head of dusty hair. He wasn't conventionally handsome or striking like Andromeda but there was something distinguished about him. He had his hands in his pockets and was waving them around sporadically as he spoke, apparently unaware of how ridiculous he looked, but Andromeda seemed to be quite taken with him. However, when she caught someone's eye over the boy's shoulder, she shook her head, took a step back, and left without saying goodbye.

The Hufflepuff boy looked distraught, as though he was going to follow her but thought better of it. A moment later he had said something to himself, shrugged the snow off his shoulders, and walked miserably in the opposite direction that Andromeda had just taken off in.

Harry knew the boy was Ted Tonks, the man Andromeda would eventually come to marry. He knew the two would be happy together, knew they would love each other unconditionally and come to have a child together, Nymphadora. And yet that would never happen if Andromeda didn't realise that, as sad as she would be to leave her family, she would be much happier being who she truly was with Ted.

"Cadmus, what do you think of Professor Binns, anyway? He's quite odd but he seems to know what he's talking about…"

"Binns?" Harry thought it was odd to see him alive, that's what he thought. "Oh, he's rather boring, but at least he does really care about history."

Harry himself had taken a liking to history: after living through so many of the stories he thought he would only ever hear about, Harry would have had to actively work _against_ liking history to hate it these days. It came naturally to him now.

Tom Riddle, however, thought it mostly useless.

As always, the ride back to London took far less time than the ride leaving London, and before he knew it, Harry was saying goodbye to his friends and searching the crowd for his parents. Orion Black, being a most intimidating figure, was not hard to miss.

"Plans have changed," he said, without greeting him hello. He spoke into Harry's ear as they hugged one another. "You are no longer spending a night at our home while your father is indisposed – he wishes to see you immediately, and so upon arrival at the Black house you will Floo directly home."

Well, Cadmus had no qualms about that, bar his inability to see Sirius and Regulus. They had all been looking forward to it. "Of course," he said, once the hug had ended. "Are we Apparating home?"

His question was answered when Orion gripped him by the arm, pulled him closer, and vanished them both on the spot.

"Quickly, now," he was saying, pulling Cadmus towards the fire. His grip was just too tight, as though he was desperate to get Cadmus out of his home. "Stop stumbling, Apparation is not that taxing… Here. Take some powder – please be swift – your father is expecting you. I will escort you back to the Express at the end of the holidays. Do give your father our best."

"Thank you, Orion," said Cadmus, "I will. But should you ever manhandle me again, I will demonstrate why I am my father's son." And he threw down the powder with a shout, tumbling not a moment later out of the fireplace in Voldemort's Throne Room.

He had not expected to be tugged immediately upright.

"F-Father," he choked, because Voldemort was gripping him by the robe and it was too tight around his neck, securing Cadmus little air. "I'm sorry I'm–"

"I received a letter," Tom Riddle hissed, his eyes filled with terrifying ire, his face so close to Cadmus' that they could brush noses, "from a fellow Slytherin of yours. A _Malfoy._ "

 _This is fixable,_ Cadmus told himself, knowing he'd neglected to mention the meeting between Lucius and himself in his last letter. "I-I can explain–"

"What is there to explain? You made a _mistake,"_ his father was seething, trembling with the power of his rage-induced magic, "you let one of your most precious secrets be perverted by a _Malfoy_ , a boy much less worthy than you, and what happens? He uses it to leverage himself in my court! To toss you to the hell hounds! I should kill you right now for how you have failed me–!"

"P-Plan," wheezed Cadmus, woozy now with the lack of oxygen, "manip-manip–"

Voldemort threw him to the ground; he overshadowed Cadmus with his dark form, his fury directed down the length of his yew wand, his gaze frighteningly still. The incandescence of his aura was menacing. Cadmus could do nothing but lower his gaze and pant for air, ashamed and daunted.

"You have disappointed me greatly, my _dear_ heir _._ You have _failed_ me _._ "

Cadmus was all but grovelling at his feet, anger, desperation and pride warring inside of him. Most of all, he felt hurt. "I have not failed you," he said softly.

He did not dare look up.

"What?" Voldemort whispered.

A shiver swooped down Cadmus' spine. "I said, Father, that I did not fail you." His voice was stronger this time; indeed, his limbs felt like his own again and in the following silence, Cadmus pushed himself to his knees and stared his father in the face. He felt only sorrow now. "Lucius Malfoy saw only what I wanted him to see. I planned for him to see me speak Parseltongue because I knew it would make him think I was worthy enough for him to help. He is in love with Narcissa, Father, he wants to marry her. I've been accepted into the Slug Club and my reputation is rising consequently but Lucius Malfoy will do whatever needs to be done to see my name rise from the ashes because he will not allow himself to marry into a family where even one person is deemed a failure."

"I thought," Voldemort said with displeasure, "that you were going to build up your own name."

"And I am, I have been," said Cadmus, "but I wish to focus more on our enemies, Father, on Dumbledore and his staff. If Lucius is the one making me look good, I will not have to lift a finger, and Dumbledore will have no reason to suspect me of doing anything wrong. It will be like people have just grown used to me – indeed, that they have decided to like me because I am a Black."

Voldemort seemed to think it through. "He knows how Slytherin politics work; he knows you will have done something–"

"Perhaps he would, if I had not already complained to McGonagall about Bellatrix forcing people to 'like' me. She will pass word on to Dumbledore, and that should raise some of the suspicion, I hope. They probably think my other cousins are helping her."

Red eyes gleamed down at Cadmus like fresh blood, who bowed his head as a show of respect. A minute or two later, perhaps even five, Cadmus saw from the corner of his eye that Voldemort was lowering his wand. His magic settled in the air around them, no longer a formidable tempest, and there was such a cold silence before his footsteps sounded, and he placed his hand on the top of Cadmus' head.

"Dinner is in an hour," Tom Riddle said, and his voice was soft again. "I will see you then, and I hope to hear all about your days at Hogwarts."

"Yes, Father," said Cadmus hoarsely. Only when he was dismissed did he get to his feet, levitate his bag, and leave for his bedroom. His personal house-elf, Drippy, was waiting for him when he arrived.

"Master need healing?" she asked. "Master need anything?"

Harry closed his eyes, focused on his breathing, and shook his head. "No thank you, Drippy. I am fine."

Drippy seemed reluctant to leave. "As Master says," she intoned, and a moment later Harry heard the tell-tale pop that signalled her exit.

Harry could remember the hatred he had felt for Voldemort in his first years of life. The man had robbed him of his parents, made his first twenty years of life miserable, and tried to kill him on numerous occasions. He wreaked death and havoc wherever he went. He remembered sympathising with Voldemort, feeling sorry for him, when he learned that he had just as bad a childhood as Harry himself did. They were so similar, he had never wanted to admit to himself, but when he was rebirthed into Matthew Jackson, his first new life, he had realised that death and havoc followed him as tightly as they followed Voldemort.

They only difference was that Harry didn't hate himself for his own blood, or scorn others for theirs.

And now Voldemort – the man that had ripped Harry of the only parents he could ever remember having – was his father. Cruel irony, Harry thought, and couldn't help but laugh.

"Master of Death," Harry said to himself, and sat down sedately on the bed. "Perhaps it's time I gave up this gig."

But he had to finish this life first.

Tom Riddle wasn't all bad, Harry supposed, at being a father. Having never had one himself, and being a Dark Lord, Harry was actually surprised he wasn't treated as badly as he was at the Dursleys. Here, he at least had a bedroom and received some form of encouragement, and praise, from Tom. He was fed, watered, dressed to the nines and allowed to read wonderful books and learn wonderful things. It was almost like he was back with the Founders, he could tell himself; it was like Godric was teaching him sword-fighting or Rowena was translating with him some ancient text, or Helga was showing him a very neat Healing charm or Salazar –

Harry swallowed, looking to his feet. No, he would not think of Salazar, not now at least. He was already messed up enough over Tom.

Oh, Harry didn't hate Tom at all, of this he was sure; he hated his aims, what he stood for, but he certainly did not hate the man. He had not hated him since before he married Ginny. Indeed, the only person Harry had ever hated was the man that had murdered his son in front of him – but he did not much fancy thinking of that, either.

Instead, Harry decided not to think at all, and cleared his mind as he took a relaxing shower, preparing himself for what he was sure would be an intense dinner.

Indeed, it did prove trying: Tom Riddle seemed content to act as though nothing had happened, although the bruising that was beginning to settle on Cadmus' neck proved otherwise. Still, he too played along; answering obediently each question he was asked.

It was only when he felt that Tom Riddle believed enough in him that he broached the subject of his obliviation.

"Father," he began, and decided that after his lie about intending Lucius to find him speaking Parseltongue, another little lie couldn't hurt, "a friend of mine has been obliviated–"

Tom Riddle arched an eyebrow as he took a sip of red wine. "The fool," he said.

Cadmus nodded. "Yes," he was still kicking himself for lowering his guard, "only, we think he may have been obliviated by Dumbledore. And if that's the case, then he might have seen something vital to our cause."

Although he seemed to know where this was going, Tom Riddle said nothing.

"I know, of course, that there is only one cure for obliviation – but the ingredients…"

"You are asking me to obtain the necessary dragonroot and stardust, are you not?"

With lowered head, Cadmus said, "Yes, Father. I thought that on your many travels, you may be able to acquire them so that I may brew the potion in Hogwarts, in secret."

"That is much too risky." Tom thought for a moment. "I shall have my Potions Master brew it, after I collect the ingredients, and will have him meet with you in Hogsmead on a pre-arranged date. You know the passageway, I trust?"

"Yes, Father."

"And that the potion will take a substantial amount of time to brew?"

"Yes, Father."

"Very well then. If you are committed to this cause then I am committed to helping you. I will allude to a date in one of my letters to you in the future…" He watched Cadmus carefully. "I hope this endeavour proves fruitful."

"Even if it doesn't, Father, I'm certain knowing whether or not he was involved in the incident will be helpful to know in itself."

And knowing who _was_ involved would show Cadmus who to study next.


	10. Speak Daggers, Use None

**_EDITED - CHAPTER CONTINUED FROM WHERE IT PREVIOUSLY ENDED_**

 _This is a terribly short (and terribly written) chapter and for that I apologise. It has been so so long since I have written because I've been focusing on my own works... While I loved writing this fanfiction, I'm sort of past it. But I figured I owed it to myself (for having it already planned out) and to you (for being loyal, for reading it in the first place, and for reviewing) to at least try and finish it._

 _So try I will. I'm sorry I've been away from this for so long; that is why this chapter is as it is, and why characterisation may be a little odd. It's been a while. Need to get back into the swing of it._

* * *

 **– CHAPTER TEN –**  
 **SPEAK DAGGERS, USE NONE**

* * *

The potion would take several months to brew. It was not be ready until Cadmus' last few weeks at Hogwarts in this first year, and so he settled down for a long few months. He was more determined than ever to gain the trust of the Headmaster but began wondering if he had to lose his trust before he could start to gain it. Dumbledore would not let go of his fascination; he would continue to insist that Cadmus was Tom Riddle's son until proved correct or incorrect through conclusive DNA evidence or otherwise and, even then, Cadmus suspected the Headmaster would still have his doubts. Cadmus would only truly be trusted when all was revealed – perhaps going to the Headmaster and outing himself as Tom Riddle's son would ensure an alliance could slowly start to form between them?

But Dumbledore would never trust such a scheme, even if Cadmus – Harry – was sincere in all he said and did.

So busy was Cadmus with all his thoughts and plans, and his continued tutoring throughout the holidays, meant that Christmas passed quickly, as uneventful that year as it had been most every other. Tom Riddle once again did not celebrate Yule but did gift his heir a book on social propriety (a hint, Cadmus thought, or a warning). Cadmus in turn gave his father a letter Lucius Malfoy has sent to him a week prior informing him that he was invited to the Malfoy Yule Ball on Christmas night. Lucius has written that it would be an excellent opportunity to increase Cadmus' social standing and that he should absolutely attend.

Tom had outright laughed when he read the letter, and at first, Cadmus had almost frozen in preparation for… what? He didn't quite know but something about his dynamic with Tom had changed ever since the night of his arrival. He was frequently on edge, wanting to please Tom so he should not suffer again. He hoped Tom had not noticed his trepidation for he did not know why he even felt it; he was the Master of Death, for goodness' sake, die and he would only reawaken as someone new… but if Cadmus were to die, Harry Potter would still have a miserable life, Voldemort would still come into being and murder thousands of people, and Cadmus' efforts and sufferings so far would all be for nought.

"An invitation to Malfoy Manor? What a golden opportunity, indeed," said Tom with a slight smirk. "You shall not attend of course."

"But Father…"

"What, you think sucking up to rich men and women will win you favour? No. Gossip will spread should you not show; a Black rejecting a Malfoy will be a scandal, and one many might respect you for. To attend may have you seen as a desperate groveler and a weakling. Rejecting the invitation, however, will show strength and independence many a witch and wizard will admire."

Cadmus nodded. "As you say, Father."

The Dark Lord smiled. "You are becoming more and more admirable, Cadmus. You live up to more and more expectations. But fail to discuss with me your plans again…"

"I promise," said Cadmus swiftly, "I will inform you as quickly and as discreetly as I can."

The unfading bruises that lined his neck, unable to be cured for the magic that imbued them, reminded Cadmus of this necessity each and every day.

* * *

Winter holidays came and passed and Cadmus saw very little of his brothers, who were becoming more and more mature, and not a fraction less excitable. Cadmus missed them terribly but persevered: they reminded him of all the reasons he was fighting the good fight, and he would not fail them, even if they were not there to support him along the way.

As expected, Gaspard arrived late to the train but it gave Tilden and Cadmus some time to talk quietly together without being hassled for spit samples. The trio had become quite close with one another and Cadmus revelled in being back at Hogwarts with good people at his sides. It helped remind him that, even after all he had suffered through the years, there was still hope and kindness. He needed that after his last life, with Godric and Helga, Rowena and… Salazar.

Salazar.

"Are you all right, old boy?" asked Gaspard as they took to Hogwarts grounds, trunks trailing behind them. "You look a bit odd."

Tilden rolled his eyes. "The word's _upset_ , Gaspard, and stop calling us that. You're not forty."

Gaspard grinned, "Ah, yes, but what if I told you I was working on a potion that could age a person EXPOENTIALLY, stopping at a desired age – or, even, maybe reversing the aging process entirely!? Hm?!"

Tilden looked rather disgusted. "I'd say it goes against nature and that I'd rather not see my mother, desperate to regain her youth, turn into a seventeen-year-old again. That would make family gatherings awkward."

"And it'd wreak havoc on your hormones I bet, hey, old boy?"

"Just… don't talk to me."

Cadmus did not throw in his fifty pence, just to be sure he wasn't made as equally scarred and disturbed as Tilden now looked.

"Anyway," said Tilden, "did you want to come up to Ravenclaw tower with me this weekend? I've been dying to show it to you and, I'm sure, you're curious about seeing the common room."

Cadmus smiled. He had only been a Ravenclaw once before but found the common room beautiful and refreshing, and filled with lively inspiration. "I'm sure Gaspard's scientific interest will be piqued and I would love to see where you are living, Tilden. We'll come, of course we will."

Tilden smiled slightly, lopsided as usual. "Great."

"Indeed," said Gaspard, "I imagine Ravenclaws have some very interested thought patterns. I wonder if one should let me monitor them for a few hours or so…?" And so he went on and on until they arrived at the Great Hall.

The Feast was… something unexpected, to say the least. Cadmus had not expected his popularity to flourish as his father had planned but it had. People respected him for not kissing up to Lucius and his father, and shared more and more conversation with him because of this. This was all wonderful news and Cadmus expected to be top of the Slytherin social ladder by the end of the year, but Cadmus' little Yule absence, unfortunately, had its setbacks. A few more prolific purebloods were absolutely appalled he had not attended the Malfoy's party. Indeed, enough important purebloods such as the Greengrasses, the Pontieres, the Fontaines and the DeWitts were upset enough with Cadmus that Cadmus knew he had to show himself to be better than Malfoy – to be above him, so that he may have been in his rights in not attending the party.

But what could he do?

 **Stop thinking so hard,** hissed Selene, **and hand me some meat. I haven't eaten in over an hour.**

Cadmus almost bit back that she had eaten quite enough on the train and was half-tempted to ask if she wanted to gain something extra around her waist but refrained; firstly, he did not wish to be bitten; secondly, no-one could know he spoke parseltongue hence he could not speak it at a very public dinner; and thirdly, no-one even knew he had a snake in his pocket. (A bad turn of phrase, he admitted to himself.)

And that was when it hit him. Selene was most magnificent and rare, was she not? If the purebloods were to know such a magnificent creature had CHOSEN him above a Malfoy… Well.

With a smirk, Cadmus ripped some beef apart and discreetly slipped it into his pocket for Selene, hoping she would not mind being the centre of attention for a little while this weekend. She wouldn't of course, the little miss craved the spotlight almost as much as she craved bacon. And she loved bacon. A lot.

Who would have thought snakes were creatures of the open eye? Slytherin was all about keeping your cards to yourself. Perhaps Selene was simply an exception. Well, Cadmus was a Gryffindor at heart, so he supposed he was an exception, too. Perhaps it was time to play the game a little differently – a little more like a lion, rather than a snake.

"I think going to Ravenclaw," Cadmus began, off-topic but pleased, "will truly be fun. I will be able to show you my own present as well."

Tilden looked amused. "Something you received from your father for Christmas?" he asked.

"Oh no, something much more exciting than that, I should expect."

And so the conversation continued, with Tilden's guesses at what this surprise may be gradually forming more and more dramatic scenarios. It continued into dessert where Cadmus helped himself to treacle tart - still his favourite, after all these years - while simply refusing to reply to Tilden any longer; indeed, the only time Tilden stopped talking was once desert finished. Everyone else, too, had silence into an unusual hush.

Dumbledore was rising from his seat, looking calm. Cadmus stared.

"Students," the Headmaster began, "as we are all aware, over the holiday our Minister Nobby Leach resigned due to an... incurable magical illness. Perhaps it is not my place to speak of this to you, especially as the news has only just broke, but I believe strongly in the power of knowledge. Which leads me to say this: should you hear any rumours regarding Minister Leach's resignation, I implore you to ignore them, and act always with kindness. For now, I can assure you our new Minister Eugenia Jenkins is an extremely strong and assured woman, who will lead this country to do a great many things. I am sure you are all with me when I wish her good health and luck.

"And now - to bed with you all! I hope you all have pleasant dreams, and a bright start to the year tomorrow."

Everyone rose as though in synchronisation. Cadmus looked to Tilden, then to Gaspard, who both looked equally confused. "Did you know about this?" he asked.

Both shook their heads. "As if I could withhold such knowledge," said Gaspard, "I already want to know what illness it is he suffers with! I would have been questioning you non-stop on the train and, believe you me, you will receive an earful of it tonight!"

"Gaspard, don't be a pain."

"A pain? Interesting. I wonder if Nobby had any such pain in his illness, or whether it was killing him silently... Impairing his judgement, maybe? How very interesting..."

A clearing of the throat, and all three boys turned to see Cousin Narcissa standing there, head held high, lips pursed. "Don't mind me, Cousin," she said smoothly, "but I thought I should inform you, lest you be made to look a fool, that the rumour is that Lucius' father, Abraxas, was involved in the dear Minister's resignation. Both you and I know Abraxas could never do such a thing... We have to be here for my darling Lucius now more than ever. Don't you agree?"

"Quite," said Cadmus with a smile. "Anything you ask will be my doing, Cousin Narcissa."

Narcissa smiled sharply, like the cat who caught the canary. "Quite," she parroted, and turned on her heel. As she did so, her skirt delicately lifted around her slender legs and a few Gryffindor boys stared - one of them nudged their friends in the ribs with a roll of his eyes and Cadmus was quite taken aback to see Arthur Weasley, looking as young and handsome as Fred and George had been when they were his age, standing there laughing. Indeed, Cadmus was so startled, he had not even realised Tilden was talking to him.

"Cadmus - Cadmus, for the love of Merlin, what are you staring at?" he was saying, "Come on, I could fall to the floor. Lets go to sleep."

"What?" asked Cadmus.

Tilden snorted. "All right, it's definitely bedtime for you. Gaspard, can I trust you to get Cadmus there in one piece?"

"Certainly," said Gasapard. "But perhaps in two pieces-?"

"No."

"With a piece missing-?"

"No."

"A shame." Gaspard sighed. "All right, come on then, Cadmus, old boy, let's get you to bed."

Cadmus nodded, and followed his friends without direction up the stairs. Yet, as he walked, he could not help but look back to the man that had raised him and at the spirited young woman that approached him with flushed cheeks and a bright smile.

Harry Potter, The Master of Death, had never had true parents. But the Weasleys were just as good as, and seeing them made something in him drastically weaken.

He had missed them, he thought. He had missed them terribly.


	11. Death is a Fearful Thing

_THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER HAS BEEN EDITED AND ADDED TO! WITHOUT READING THE NEW ENDING THIS CHAPTER WILL NOT MAKE SENSE TO YOU. amen._

 _sooooo hello. thanks for reading. new chapter. yay. although its short and its not edited, so... sorry!_

* * *

 **–** **CHAPTER ELEVEN –**  
 **DEATH IS A FEARFUL THING**

* * *

Narcissa was struggling. Cadmus had watched throughout the weeks as she grew more and more distant of Lucius, as she broke off their engagement, as the rumours about Abraxas Malfoy and the investigation into his involvement in the retirement of the first ever Muggle-born Minister grew and festered.

Lucius, too, looked forlorn. Ever since Cadmus had denied attending his Christmas party, everything had gone up-hill for Cadmus and down-hill for Lucius. Now, everyone saw Cadmus as some omniscient wise-ass who had predicted the shame that would come upon the Malfoy family; even the purebloods that had hated him just a few weeks ago, now revered him because "he had known the Malfoy family was dirt before everyone else."

So, Cadmus had efficiently risen to the top of the Slytherin social ladder. Within a few months. People were impressed, but others – say, Dumbledore – were… intrigued, it seemed.

By not attending the Malfoy party, Cadmus had effectively severed himself from one of the families Dumbledore knew was utterly and truly on the side of the Dark. And yet, it had been revealed, Cadmus had a snake…

 _"_ _GET THAT THING AWAY FROM ME!"_

 _Tilden Toots ran down the stairs of the Boy's Dorms, Cadmus and Gaspard hot on his heels._

 _"_ _Don't be such a baby, Tilden, it is only a snake–"_

 _"_ _Wow, wow, wow," a Sixth Year Ravenclaw stood from the sofa, looking perplexed, "What do you mean, snake?"_

 _"_ _Well," said another, "he could be referring to the slithery thing wrapped around that Slytherin's shoulders, Clarence, you turd."_

 _Selene huffed indignantly. "_ _ **That 'slithery thing' is in fact one of the rarest magical snakes on this Earth, I'll have you know!**_ _"_

 _Cadmus tried hard not to snort._

 _"_ _I'M BEING SERIOUS, I HATE SNAKES, WHY COULDN'T YOU BE NORMAL AND HAVE AN OWL OR SOMETHING?"_

 _Clearing his throat, Cadmus shared a look with Gaspard and shrugged. "Snakes are more fun. My family, proud Slytherins, were extremely happy for me to have a snake as my familiar…"_

 _"_ _And that isn't just any snake," said the turd, Clarence, "that's an Iridescent Shieldtail, isn't it?"_

 _Cadmus nodded, and Selene hissed, "_ _ **And aren't I gorgeous?**_ _"_

 _"_ _Wow, she is?"_

 _"_ _Have you taught him any tricks?"_

 _"_ _What's its name?"_

 _"_ _Is it really your familiar, or just your pet?"_

 _"_ _My familiar," assured Cadmus. "And she can do a great many things. Care for a demonstration?"_

 _It took only one nod, and then everyone in Ravenclaw had grown trunks in the place of noses, had their hair dyed all sorts of colours, and had fireworks bursting to life above them._

 _Clarence was the first to speak up, colour cast upon his cheeks. "Cool," he said. "I wish I had a snake."_

 _And the sentiment, it seemed, was shared._

This little display went down very well with the rest of the school and Selene was very pleased to no longer be hidden in Cadmus' overly hot gown, but Dumbledore looked upon the snake dubiously. Dumbledore obviously did not yet trust Cadmus, he had no reason to. But, slowly yet surely, Cadmus would win him over. One way or another.

It was only a couple of months before the end of term when Cadmus entered his room in the early afternoon when everyone was at lunch to find Narcissa Black sat elegantly on his bed – but she was clearly distressed.

"Cousin," said Cadmus warily. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Enough," she said, "My Lord, I need your help. Lucius needs your help."

Cadmus scowled. "I'm nobodies Lord, Narcissa."

"Please, Cousin," she said.

Cadmus remained posed for a moment, then sighed and sat opposite her on Gaspard's bed. "I don't know what I can do for Lucius."

"Of course you do," she said, "Thanks to him, and your efforts in school, you are at the top of the Slytherin social ladder. You can raise him back up. You can extend the arm of friendship. You know they won't find anything to convict Abraxas, Cadmus, let alone send him to trial! If anything, it will help you; they will continue to see you as some manner of omniscient god, and you will be upheld as the man who… exonerated a socially outcast Slytherin."

It was true, thought Cadmus, and he had hated seeing Narcissa upset. For all her misgivings, she was a truly good person, deep down, who only wanted to protect and love those closest to her. "I have wanted to help you ever since I saw how much severing all ties with Lucius has affected you," he said, slowly starting to smile. "Albeit, maybe there is something here to gain for myself, but seeing a woman in misery is something I cannot abide. And Lucius' attempts to regain your attention have been a little sickening to watch I admit."

Narcissa laughed, and her hair was undone and it fell into her face, and that was the sign of a suffering aristocrat: dishevelled hair.

"Done and done," she said, looking shiny and new. "Thank you, Cousin."

"You owe me," said Cadmus.

Her smile was sharp. "Oh, do I?"

Family never owed Cadmus anything. It was almost as though she knew.

* * *

It took a few weeks. Slowly, he spoke to Lucius; both in dark corners in hushed tones as if they were discussing something truly important, and down in the Common Room with a few well-placed Silencing Charms. With each encounter, more and more people watched and wondered, and gave Lucius a few doubting looks.

A week after Cadmus had cemented his alliance with Lucius, news broke: nothing could be proved, Abraxas was innocent, and the Malfoy name was restored to rights. Narcissa took him back in a heartbeat. And Dumbledore, ever watchful, wondered.

 **"** **May I have some bacon today?"** asked Selene glumly, " **I am tired of this fasting."**

Cadmus snorted as he shrugged on his robe that morning. "I am not starving you, I am trying to stop you from having a heart attack."

 **"** **I am a magical snake, we do not get fat, ugly, or ill."**

"Nice try," said Cadmus. "Tell that to your gut."

Selene bit him and Cadmus laughed. It was good to have a friend.

" **How did your father respond to your news?"** she asked. Cadmus draped her across his shoulders. He did not leave her alone, ever, for fear she be snatched from him.

"Well, I think he did. I hope he did." Cadmus rubbed tiredly at his eyes. "Truly, he has been distant. I don't know what has happened. I fear a repeat of Christmas."

" **Do not fret. He loves you."**

"Does he?" asked Cadmus. "I suppose that is why he gave me a purple necklace?"

 **S** elene looked displeased. **"You have no idea of his sufferings."**

"Selene, my dear, I know of his sufferings better than anyone." He closed his eyes. "Some days, I still wonder how this all came to be. Why I'm here."

" **Don't ask such nonsense or your head will burst. Although… maybe if you gather the Hallows…** "

"No. I will not face Death again."

Selene hissed unhappily. " **You won't, will you? Then stop complaining and get me some bacon. I'm hungry."**

"You're dreadful," replied Cadmus but he acquiesced, and headed for the Great Hall. However, not two steps outside of his dorm, Gaspard ran into him.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry, Gaspard?"

"To find you! Lucius has gone… mad… he's telling everyone–"

There was no need to hear anymore; Gaspard ran as fast as he could to the Great Hall, where Lucius was smirking at his peers as they all crowded around him, amazingly interested. Cadmus had presumed such displays were against the Slytherin Code of Modesty – but he had a feeling this gossip was worth the indiscretion.

"A Parselmouth?" one asked. "Are you sure?"

"On my mother's life," said Lucius smoothly. "He told me himself."

"You must mean a great deal to him. Does he hold you in high regard?"

"Oh, the highest. It was I that showed him the ropes around here, you know. I'm certain he owes me many favours."

"Truly? Imagine what he could do for you…"

Self-serving Slytherins. Lucius was a bigger idiot than Cadmus had thought and he had thought he was overestimating Lucius' idiocy. In fact, sometimes, he had thought Lucius was wickedly clever - but he was just another hungry fool.

"Lucius," Cadmus' simpered but it was like knives, and Lucius looked pleased to see him. He shouldn't have. "Lucius, what indiscretion are you sharing today, after I so modestly helped you and your father win your case and prove his innocence?" A lie. Lucius wouldn't deny it though.

"I had thought you would like your fellow Slytherins to know just how glorious you are." More like how glorious Lucius was; trying to prove he knew all, had all, and had under his thumb a very powerful Parselmouth. "I know you told me this in confidence but it is a gift to be shared. Surely you are in agreement?"

He was greedy, and devious, and wanted the fame and stature that Cadmus would eventually rise to. He knew threatening to reveal Cadmus' second language would not work - when he had worked that out, Cadmus was unsure, but Cadmus would have never cared if everyone found out he was a parselmouth - and so he did it to make it seem like he was something worth being friends with. A powerful ally.

Lucius prided himself on having friends in high places.

"Should I have wanted them to know, I would have told them," said Cadmus, "but I am sure you know best, Lucius." Humble and able to be underestimated, but still a person to admire, _and_ a Parselmouth. Cadmus would lose no respect for this. "Well, then, I am sure I will see you at my ancestral home this Summer to share a few more secrets with you!" Cadmus winked like it was all fun and games. "Perhaps I will let you meet Selene properly. For now, though, she wants bacon. I shall speak to you later."

Lucius did not look wary. "Later, Mr. Black," he said.

Of course, Dumbledore had listened to the whole affair. He was hiding it well but Cadmus could see the cogs turning in his head; he would be vehement now that Cadmus was Tom Riddle's son and so Cadmus would do little to disprove it. There was no point. Now that trust had been stripped away, it was simply a matter of building it back up.

But not yet. Right now, Cadmus had to feed a snake some bacon, and prepare for the letter he was to write to his father. The End of Year Feast was fast approaching and Cadmus did not want to go home and be greeted with his father's luminous ire for the second time this year.

He wondered why it still hurt to think about, even long after the bruises had faded.


End file.
